The Frozen Throne
by Greed720
Summary: Fate is inexorable, or rather that is what everyone believes, Percy Jackson's fate though was forever changed, which led to him awakening in a land of ice and snow, no longer the Hero he once was. Now he must adapt, survive and make the best out of a bad situation. Hiatus/ potentially up for adoption.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So hello everyone, this is a tester chapter of thoughts, one I am publishing to try out some ideas I had and get some feedback I can use going forward. IT is of course a Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones story, based mostly on the TV programme, but also using a few bits and pieces from the books where they fit and are appropriate.**

 **That being said some of the themes in this story, and one or two plot points and elements have been inspired by a computer game I used to play years ago, called Warcraft Reign of Chaos, and the Expansion Frozen Throne. With these elements predominantly being to do with the storyline, as oppose to anything else. This story focusing on Percy Jackson.**

 **Either way I hope you give the story a chance and enjoy it. Plus I would love to hear some feedback, as I've tried to add some more context to this story than I did for my others, as a tester of sorts. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 1**

 **( - )**

 **(In Greece, on the slopes of Mount Olympus)**

It was hot and dry, almost intolerably so, though considering this was mainland Greece in summer then maybe that wasn't all that surprising. At present there were two armies currently duking it out on the slopes of Mount Olympus, with one of the armies, the larger one by far, being the seemingly, never ending forces of Gaia, the semi slumbering Primordial Goddess of the Earth.

A thronging, mass of monsters that spread out as far as the eye could see, a seemingly unstoppable horde that had been released from the bowels of Tartarus and sent to the mortal plane, where they had spread out, causing untold chaos, death and destruction as they fell upon anything they came across, unleashing their wrath and fury on both the mundane and supernatural alike, uncaring that most humans were unaware of their existence, or that the divine world had been hidden by the Mist, a magical veil, for centuries now.

With this unholy horde being led by much mighty beings, such as the Gigantes, the giant children of Gaia and Tartarus, born for the single purpose of killing and replacing the Olympians. Most of whom were fighting to fully awaken their mother and fulfil her plan of sending the world back to how it was in the First Age, the primordial age. With a number of pissed of Titans and Minor Gods lending their aid to cause, either fighting for revenge on old slights, or for position in the new world order that Gaia sought to create.

Standing against this overwhelming horde was the gleaming legions of Olympus. With hundreds of Demigods, Roman and Greek alike, wearing burnished armour, and gleaming weapons forged from either Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold leading the way. With these men and women being back up by platoons of Dryads, Satyrs and Nature Spirits wielding spears, bows and elemental magic, and by units of armour clad Cyclops loyal to Atlantis, and whole array of other soldiers of Olympus, including some on Pegasai and Griffins.

Furthermore this small, but powerful forces of Olympus were being supported by masses of undead soldiers, soldiers from every era, with Greek Hoplites fighting alongside Napoleonic rifle men and modern day Special Forces units. With mighty heroes from the past like Achilles, Ajax, Alexander the Great and Bruce Lee adding their strength to the mix, bolstering the forces of Olympus as they fought back against Gaia's vast army. With their fight extending and expanding every hour that it last, as the fighting spread out, over land, sea and air for miles and miles in all direction.

With any mortal unlucky enough to get caught up in it dying, even as the Mist itself began to crumble and humanity was exposed to the supernatural for the first time in centuries, affirming once and for all, for all those naysayers out there, that the age of the gods was not just mythology made up to scare children and manipulate the masses, but a very real, tangible and deadly thing.

Near the head of the army of Olympus, fighting in the front lines, alongside gods both major and minor, was one Percy Jackson. The dark haired, green eyed son of Poseidon wearing a chain mail hauberk of Celestial Bronze, with an Imperial Gold cuirass, pauldron and gauntlets over the top.

His sword Riptide held in one hand as he fought like a berserker, throwing all caution to the wind as he hurled himself into the very thick of the fighting, the air around him coalescing into a miniature storm, and the ground at his feet trembling as he unleashed his full might on his foes.

Fighting directly alongside his son, occasionally sending him concerned looks, was a similarly dark haired man, with sea green eyes and tanned skin. With this older man wearing a set of greenish armour, and wielding a massive golden trident, one which practically radiated with untold power as he smote any monster, giant or Titan foolish enough to face him, working in perfect synch with his son, Percy, as the cut a swathe through the hordes of Gaia, heading for the Earth Goddess herself.

This was Poseidon, the God of the Sea, Earthquakes, Soil, Storms, and Horses, the Earth Shaker and the King of Atlantis, and currently he was concerned. Not about the fight though, as the battle was going well, it had lasted for nearly four days now and the forces of Olympus had prevailed thus far, cutting their way through the masses of monsters, almost reaching the heart of the horde, the mountain of Olympus where Gaia was still slowly awakening.

No, instead his concern was for his son, Percy, the last year had been very hard on the teen. Firstly he had been kidnapped from his home by Hera, that bitch, only to then have his memories wiped and be kept in stasis for months, after which he was then sent to the Roman Camp, all for the Queen of Olympus's overly convulted plan to unite the Greek and Roman Demigods.

Following on from that he had been given a quest by Mars the God of War, and had then been sent to Alaska of all places, the land beyond the gods, where he was supposed to unchain Thanatos the God of Death, the idiot who had gotten himself captured, stopping him from reaping the souls of those killed, and policing the borders of the Underworld, which of course had made the monsters serving Gaia practically immortal.

After that Percy had then returned to the Roman Camp, Camp Juptier, his memories still intact as he had then gone with six other Demigods to Italy, in the Old World, all so he could find that bratty goddess, Athena's, statue, so peace could be made between the Greek and Roman Demigods, all so they could ally together and defeat the slowly awakening Gaia.

Of course not everything goes to plan, and although the Demigods had found the Athena Parthenos, they had also fallen into a trap. Which had led to Annabeth, Percy's girlfriend, and a daughter of Athena, to fall into the depths of Tartarus. Which had naturally led Percy, the overly honourable and loyal idiot he was, to jump in after her.

From there things had only gotten worse, as from what Poseidon had managed to find out from reading the minds of Percy's Demigod comrades, and his brief conversations with Hera and Athena, the girl Annabeth had died instantly from the fall, with her being killed upon impact as she fell hundreds of miles and through the dimensional gap which separated the mortal plane from Tartarus, and directly into the unforgiving terrain of the Pit.

Percy though, he had survived the fall, with him instead landing in one of the Rivers of the Underworld, which broke his fall. And after that, well Poseidon didn't know what happened to Percy after that, with three weeks on the mortal plane having passed before the teen returned, with Percy never saying a word about his ordeal.

But whatever did happen down in the Pit had changed him, making his son colder and angrier, and more prone to violence, with his emotions being tumultuous and unstable. Though considering they were in the middle of a war being violent and angry was probably a good thing, he could harness that anger and use it, plus all the fighting would hopefully be cathartic for Percy, otherwise steps would have to be taken.

Poseidon suppressed a scowl at that thought, an angry and out of control Demigod might be useful in a fight. But they were also a danger, especially Percy, with him being the strongest Demigod in recent times.

It was for that reason that Poseidon knew that Zeus, his brother, would likely call for Percy to be killed if he didn't regain control of himself. After all a powerful, uncontrollable Demigod was perhaps more dangerous than an out of control god, as gods had to obey certain Ancient Laws, if they wanted to continue existing, Ancient Laws that didn't apply to Demigods.

Poseidon let out a tired sigh at this thought, even as he saw Percy, his favourite son, once again throwing himself into the thick of the fighting, his body covered in golden dust and ichor, and his blade a blur as he slashed and hacked at anything and everything he could. His face contorting into a mask of barely contained rage as he drew on his Demigod powers and harnessed his father's domains, lashing out with highly condensed blasts and blades of water from his free hand, or creating waves of earthen spikes erupt from the ground below his foes feet.

A loud bellow erupting from his lips as he clambered over fallen friends and foe alike as he continued to attack his enemies, driving ever deeper into the mass of monsters, the rest of the Olympian army following his path, with Percy acting as the tip of a wedge formation, one which bored through the enemy hordes.

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime Later)**

"Come on! We're nearly there, we're nearly within reach of Gaia!" Percy shouted as he grabbed the blood slickened hilt of Riptide, his other hand coming up to wipe the blood off of his face, smearing it slightly as he then took a gulp of Nectar from the flask he had clenched in that same hand.

"It's been nine days Percy, nine days of continuous fighting!" A bloodied and battered Jason replied tiredly, the two of them currently taking a breather in the back lines, slightly away from the ongoing fighting, some hundred metres ahead of them. "Most of us are running on just Ambrosia and Nectar, we've not slept in days, we're exhausted, we're injured, we can only last for so long!"

"And you're point is?" Percy replied bluntly, his brow furrowing at Jason's words. "The enemy is just as tired, and we've got the momentum, we've been pushing them back for days now. With the Doors of Death sealed, and Thanatos free, they're not unbeatable anymore!"

"But they still out number us a hundred to one!" Jason snapped, frustrated with his frenemies dismissive attitude. "And Gaia is almost awake now, and the monsters of the earth are starting to regenerate faster and faster."

"Then what are you saying, we should just give up?" Percy snapped back at Jason, his brow twitching as he pushed back his fury, after all if they gave up now then all of those deaths, and all of that suffering would have been for nothing.

"No, we should regroup. We need rest, and reinforcements." Jason replied, taking a step back as he saw a flash of rage pass through Percy's cold green eyes. "Even the gods are starting to waver."

"Say we do, say we do back off and regroup. What do you think the enemy will do?" Percy replied harshly, controlling his anger as he instead glared at Jason.

"They'll continue to rampage across the Old World and the New, probably killing millions of mortals as they do so." Jason said with a sigh, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he understood what Percy was getting at.

"No," Percy replied flippantly, ignoring the threat to the mortals for the moment and concentrating on the more pertinent things. "It will give Gaia the chance to fully awaken, she's been on the verge for days now and could fully wake up at any moment, and when she does then she wins. None of us are strong enough to take on a fully wakened Primordial, only another Primordial could. If she wakes up, before Aphrodite forces her back to sleep, then we lose and we will all be wiped out. This is bigger than any of us Jason, this is about the continued existence of our kind!"

Jason grit his teeth as he heard that, his sky blue eyes narrowing as he locked gazes with Percy. The other teen had changed, he wasn't as goofy or happy go lucky as before, instead he was harder and harsher, and above all else he was pragmatic in his thought process and ruthless when it came to taking action.

"Ok fine, let's do it, one last push." Jason nodded after a few moments, ignoring the almost deafening sound of clashing blades and roaring monsters as he instead locked eyes with the blood covered, Percy Jackson, for a moment not recognising the man standing before him, Tartarus truly had changed him.

"Now let's go!" Percy shouted, oblivious to Jason's thoughts, as he instead downed his flask of Nectar, the veins beneath his skin glowing golden as the divine drink flowed through him, a sure sign that his excessive consumption was causing him to burn up from the inside.

Following on from that Percy let out a roar before he charged forward, his armour now scratched, scarred and battered as he once again, shouldered his way to the front lines, throwing himself upon a Lastragonian Giant as he did so and decapitating him with a single swing of his sword, before, without pause he then engaged his next opponent.

 **( - )**

 **(On the slopes of Mount Olympus, sometime later)**

"Hyah!" Zeus bellowed as he thrust this Master Bolt out, his Symbol of Power, a weapon capable of wiping out entire countries at Gaia's twenty foot form. A skyscraper sized bolt of lightning erupting out of it, and striking, the tall, matronly looking goddess, striking her pale white skin and sending her tumbling backwards.

"Go to sleep you bitch!" Hades followed up as he whipped his Stygian Iron sword around, the shadows dancing as the sun began to set, with thick tendrils of shadow rapidly binding Gaia's limbs, dragging the goddess down.

"Sleep!" Aphrodite commanded as she launched herself forwards, her silver armour gleaming as it caught the last rays of sunshine, even as she grabbed a hold of Gaia's thick brown hair, clinging on as she screamed in the goddess's ear, putting all of her considerable power into that one word. Causing the simple command to be so powerful that it put nearly all Demigods and monsters who heard it to sleep, and even caused a few of the other, minor gods, to nearly fall.

"Keep it up, Aphrodite!" Demeter called out as she saw Gaia's glazed eyes starting to close, even as the giant woman's body began to sink back into the ground, the Primordial Goddess slowly losing her physical form and once again merging with the earth. With Demeter helping the process along as she usurped some of Gaia's power, taking advantage of her weakening to once again reclaim her Domains from the elder goddesses control, and force Gaia to return to the earth faster.

As this was happening, all around the base of Olympus both gods, Demigods, spirits and the undead continued to fight off the now declining hordes of monsters. With Percy and Poseidon taking on the last of the giants, even as the rest of the Olympians save Ares and Athena dealt with Gaia, the god and goddess of War and battle strategy instead leading the remnants of Olympus's beleaguered forces against the monsters, driving them back and boxing them in as they tried to wipe them out.

The battle was reaching its twelfth day now, and even the gods were beginning to flag and fall. With Olympus's forces having taken a massive hit since the start of the battle, hundreds of Demigods, Satyrs and Nature spirts now lying dead, whilst still others had been transported away, either due to horrific injuries, or due to just plain exhaustion.

In total Athena had worked out that only ten percent of Olympus's army remained, with this mainly being due to the undead, who never got tired, though the Underworld god's and Demigods who summoned them did, which is why even the legions of the dead were beginning to decline as more and more of them returned to the earth, never to rise again.

Despite this though they were winning, the Gigantes were all but wiped out as were the Titans and traitorous gods, as for the monsters, it was only those directly connected to the earth and Gaia that clung on, and even they were falling now that Gaia was being forced back to sleep, their regenerative abilities, courtesy of the Goddess of the Earth, failing them.

"Come on Percy, we're almost there." Poseidon muttered as he ripped his trident out of Orion's back, leaving the giant to collapse into dust, even as Percy collapsed to his knees behind the now dead giant.

His blade Riptide still in hand, though now it was little more than a hilt with about two inches of blade left after Percy had broken it when fighting the Titan Hyperion with Frank, Jason and Leo. A fight that they had won, but just about, and with heavy sacrifices as both Leo and Frank had lost their lives in the fight. The recently revived and weakened Titan Lord of Light almost proving himself too much for the four exhausted Demigods or beat.

"Ok." Percy gasped out, spitting out some blood as he did so, before he looked up at his father revealing his pale skin, and the dark rings under his eyes.

Pushing himself to his feet, Percy's body almost gave way on him as he momentarily stumbled forwards, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he then pushed himself to his feet, pushing back his fatigue as he instead tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Ok, let's go." Percy said, more blood spilling from his mouth as he did so, his blood now steaming and flecked with gold, a sure sign that he had now consumed too much Nectar and it was eating away at him from the inside, something which was fatal to Demigods, no matter whose child they might be, or how strong they were.

"Percy!" Poseidon said stepping forward and catching his son before he collapsed.

A ragged gasp left Percy's lips at this, before he once again pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Poseidon as he pushed himself forward, heading directly for Gaia.

"Enough!" Poseidon snapped as he saw this, grabbing Percy by the back of his shirt, his armour now beyond repair, shattered and littered across the battlefield. "If you continue as you are, then you will die! In fact you're already nearly dead! You need to stop now Percy, you've done enough!"

"No," Percy replied, too tired to put any real anger into his words, as he instead continued to struggle futile against his father's grip.

Poseidon rolled his eyes at this, his son was about as strong as a kitten right now. "You've done your bit Percy, leave the rest to us."

"No," Percy tried to say again, only this time Poseidon reinforced his point by knocking his son out, Poseidon's callused hand resting on back of Percy's head for a moment, as he then reversed the flow of blood to his son's brain for a moment, starving it off oxygen and forcing him into unconsciousness.

Laying his son down on the battlefield, ignoring the remnants of fighting around him, Poseidon sent his son a tired look. He had never really been much of a father to Percy, hell, he hadn't been much of a father to any of his children, but even he knew when enough was enough, and when he needed to step in and stop his child from killing himself, with his own self-destructive behaviour.

Looking away from his fallen son, Poseidon looked off in the direction that his siblings were facing off with Gaia. His usually cheerful and happy go lucky expression, hardening as he looked over the plain of golden dust around him, and at the thousands of bodies that littered the sides of the mountain.

The battle was nearly over, just a little more and they would seize their victory and defeat Gaia. After which things would hopefully start to return to normal as Olympus recovered from this conflict. It might take years, but Olympus would recover, of that he had no doubt.

Of course some would likely hold onto the scars of this conflict for the rest of their lives, his son Percy for example. It was with this thought in mind that Poseidon turned around and looked back at his son, only for his eyes to then widen when he found Percy's body gone.

"Percy?!" Poseidon shouted, looking around in all directions as he did so, searching for his errant son. "Percy, where are you!?"

Only for him to see nothing but the bodies of the dead and the mounds of gold dust that signified fallen monsters and immortals, the Sea God's shouts soon getting drowned out by the sudden sounds of exultant cheering and shouting some distance away, as Gaia was finally forced back to sleep, her forces crumbling, and the threat she posed to the world ending.

 **( - )**

 **(Elsewhere)**

"Atropos, why did you do that?" Clotho asked, her raspy voice cracking slightly as she looked over at her sister, noticing as she did so how the other woman's face was devoid of emotion as she continued to look down on the now ending battle from above. "It was not his fate."

"None of this was his fate," Lachesis replied to her sister, on Atropos's behalf, her own voice just as raspy, as the three women, the Moirai, the three Fates, continued their eternal vigil. "The girl was not supposed to die, and the two of them were supposed to survive Tartarus. The fate of Perseus Jackson had already been corrupted by someone else, when Annabeth Chase died. Now that he has fulfilled his purpose this is probably for the best."

"Still we are not to intercede, we are watchers, nothing more." Clotho replied, her tone not changing, even as she started pondering about just how Percy Jackson fate was thrown of course to begin with.

"Even if the fate we allotted him at his birth became unravelled." Atropos finally spoke up, looking down at the other two. "Even when we know what he will go on to do?"

"But we don't, his fate was not yet set." Clotho responded, knowing as she did, that because of the events in Tartarus, Perseus Jackson's fate was still in flux, as were many of the events the future held, and the fates of the other Seven Heroes of Olympus.

"No, but we have seen what his future may hold and so I acted, and have cast him out." Atropos retorted, not a hint of doubt on her face, after all she, like her sister's, had seen the things Perseus could have gone on to do, corrupted as he had become after his time in Tartarus.

"It is not our place to decide that, and now because of your actions he is gone, gone from this world and now beyond our vision, and out of our control." Clotho said, her tone turning slightly impatient now at her sister's intransigence.

"It is for the best. I decided to cast him away, as he is too unpredictable, too much of a variable to have around, either on the mortal plane or in the Underworld." Atropos continued, her voice still devoid of doubt. "I saw what his fate held and made a decision, what is done, is done."

"So that is it, you just wash your hands of him?" Clotho asked irritably. "Who knows where he ended up when you cast him into the dimensional gap."

"Sister, Atropos is right, what is done is done. Perseus Jackson's fate is no longer our concern." Lachesis spoke up again, trying to bring peace between the two bickering sisters. "Now come, the battle is over and we still have a lot of work to do. Even now the life threads of millions of mortals need to be spun, measured and cut."

"Besides, with him no longer being in this world, he no longer has a connection to Poseidon's Domains and will forever be weakened, what damage can he really do when just relying on his own innate power, afforded him by his father's blood?" Atropos questioned, her tone still as empty and emotionless as ever. "Now let's continue our work, Lachesis is right, this conflict has killed many, and many more lives still hang in the balance."

Clotho scowled at that but nodded. "Very well, what is done is done, I will say no more about it. Though I dread to think what Perseus Jackson's fate will now be."

The other two did not respond to that, both of them putting the fate of Percy Jackson out of their minds, as now he was no longer a part of their world, and no longer under their jurisdiction, and so therefore was no longer worth thinking about. Clotho though didn't let it go, despite her words, her mind instead going over many plans and plots for the future.

 **( - )**

 **(Elsewhere, with Percy)**

Opening his eyes Percy Jackson found himself lying in a mound of ice and snow, his body shaking uncontrollably, even as it began to go numb. The freezing cold wind blowing around him, enshrouding his broken and damaged body with snow and ice.

Opening his lips a groan escaped Percy's mouth, sending up a cloud of misty air from his mouth. He was dying, this he knew. Already he could feel the cold seeping into his bones and his life-force slowly ebbing away.

How it came to be that he would freeze to death in the middle of Greece during summer he didn't know, but neither did he really care. He was dying, and he was alright with that.

Living he had found was painful, Tartarus had shown him that much. Even now, lying on his deathbed in a mound of snow and ice, he could still feel the burning heat of Tartarus, and the taste of the River of Fire as he drank its waters. And even above the whistling of the icy cold winds, he could still hear the echoes of the screaming occupants of Tartarus echoing in his ears, monsters and mortals, foul creatures who had done terrible things and were rightly suffering for it.

Death after that, was almost relief for him, at least then he could find a sense of peace, an escape from the nightmares that even now haunted him. There was a reason he had pushed himself so hard in that final fight against Gaia after all, and it was not just so he could slaughter monsters, it was an escape, a distraction from dwelling on the horrors he had seen and heard in Tartarus.

Percy opened his eyes at that, his vision blurring as he lost feeling his limbs, his body no longer shaking or feeling cold as it instead almost began to feel warm, no doubt hypothermia.

Looking up into the pitch black sky above, Percy's eyes trailed over the stars, trying to pick out the constellations he knew, who knows for his actions he might even end up receiving a constellation of his own like Zoe Nightshade did. Now that was a nice thought.

Moments later though, Percy frowned, his muddled mind spinning in confusion as he found himself being unable to recognise a single constellation in the night sky.

Before he could think any more on this though, the crunching of footsteps on snow sounded out, attracting the dying Percy's attention as he tore his eyes away from the night sky and instead looked over at the source of the disturbance.

"Wh-" Percy tried to say, his brow furrowing in confusion as he found himself looking at an unfamiliar being, one with skin as white as snow, and cold icy blue eyes, and instead of hair he instead seemed to have a crown of horns. On top of that the creature's features and characteristics, were almost alien to him, and his black armour unfamiliar. But one thing Percy knew, was this creature was powerful, terrifyingly so.

Tiling its head to the side as it looked down at him, the creatures icy blue eyes locked on Percy, analysing him, almost as if it was weighing up his worth.

Struggling Percy tried to raise his sword, a just hilt though it might as well be, up so he could at least defend himself. Only for those struggles to be futile as his entire body was now numb, unfeeling and out of his control.

In response to this the creature smiled, which was probably more terrifying then if it had screamed at him. With its actions revealing a row of gleaming white teeth, its blue eyes glowing with power as it leant forwards towards Percy's limp, unresponsive and dying body.

The creature extending a pale white hand towards him as it did so, its fingers extending, before moments later its sharp, darkened nails dug into Percy's chest, piercing the flesh right where his heart would be.

Almost immediately, the hypothermia based warmth Percy had once been feeling vanished, replaced instead by an almost burning cold, as it felt like the blood in his veins froze, with the feeling then suddenly returning to all of his limbs and bodily functions in an instant.

Which was unfortunate as Percy then opened his mouth and let out a scream of agony, his body contorting as he felt an unfamiliar energy burning through his veins, his green eyes widening as he did so, his right one rapidly turning the same icy blue colour as the creatures, even as his other resisted, the Demigodly blood in his body trying to resist this foreign energy invading his system, even if the human half of him submitted at once and was devoured.

Percy wasn't sure how long this went on for, it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. But it eventually stopped, the pain receding even if the cold didn't, though it did become far more tolerable, almost unnoticeable.

What wasn't unnoticeable though, as he lay on his back in the snow, looking up into the terrifying eyes of the creature above him, was the slow deadening of his pain, the almost ethereal whisper he could feel echoing around his head, and the sudden realisation that he was no longer dying.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think? Did you enjoy it? The White Walkers have always been something I find interesting, with my theory for the end of the Game of Thrones series being that the White Walkers will win and everyone else will die. For which reason I have been wanting to explore their existence and motivations and add in some development of my own. Plus I always think of Death Knights when I think of White Walkers.**

 **That being said my plan for this story is quite loose at the moment, as there is an important part of the plot I need to make a decision on. For which reason I would really appreciate it if I can use someone as a sound board for this plot point. Someone who doesn't mind potential spoilers.**

 **So yeah, other than that I hope you enjoyed it and leave a review, they are really useful and really motivates authors.**

 **Thanks for reading and I will see you later.**

 **Greed720.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So here is the next chapter of the Frozen Throne, I have to say I was impressed with the response the tester chapter got and the offers of help, enough to get this one out promptly. That being said I appreciate that the story might not be everyone's cup of tree, but I do appreciate the review, and will endeavour to make it a good, satisfying read for as many as I can, whilst also writing it in the way I want to.**

 **So yeah, without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you like it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, as you might have guessed.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Which was unfortunate as Percy then opened his mouth and let out a scream of agony, his body contorting as he felt an unfamiliar energy burning through his veins, his green eyes widening as he did so, his right one rapidly turning the same icy blue colour as the creatures, even as his other resisted, the Demigodly blood in his body trying to resist this foreign energy invading his system, even if the human half of him submitted at once and was devoured._

 _Percy wasn't sure how long this went on for, it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. But it eventually stopped, the pain receding even if the cold didn't, though it did become far more tolerable, almost unnoticeable._

 _What wasn't unnoticeable though, as he lay on his back in the snow, looking up into the terrifying eyes of the creature above him, was the slow deadening of his pain, the almost ethereal whisper he could feel echoing around his head, and the sudden realisation that he was no longer dying._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 2**

 **( - )**

 **(With Percy, a few months later)**

Walking forwards, Percy could feel his booted feet crunching on the crust of ice and snow that covered the ground below him, and could hear the wind rustling in the tall spindly trees that dotted the landscape, and the nearby roar of the sea as it crashed against the shore.

On top of that he could feel his heart beating within his chest, and his lungs working, for all that he should be dead considering the state he was in when he first awoke in this icy tundra, he was still alive, or at least to some degree. As despite the freezing cold atmosphere he couldn't see his breath misting in front of him, nor could he feel any warmth from his body, instead everything just felt cold.

But, perhaps more surprising than that, was that this constant feeling of cold didn't bother him, nor could he call it all that unpleasant. No, instead it just felt strangely normal, comfortable even.

Suffice to say it was an odd feeling and one he was still trying to get used to. After all he had been born warm blooded, and although he was always able to bear with the cold, especially on quests, he had preferred the warmth of the fire at Camp Half Blood, and the heat of the sun on his skin.

Pushing aside these odd thoughts, Percy instead continued to make his way through the frozen forest. Feeling as he did so, the familiar strength that was flowing through his limbs as he climbed up the brow of a slight hillock.

Reaching the brow, he was momentarily exposed to the elements, and could feel the freezing cold wind and snow whipping about him, the few tree trunks on the hillock groaning and cracking as the cold froze the sap within them, causing expansion which cracked the wood of the trunk.

Not that any of this bothered him, as he had now reached his destination, the slightest hint of a smile spreading across his face as he looked over at the partially frozen over sea, the one on the far western coast of this icy tundra he found himself in, a far cry from the intense heat of mainland Europe.

Upon finally reaching the coast line, Percy's eyes looked out over the stormy, wild waves, noticing how it was dotted with floating icebergs as he did so. With the ocean waters looking almost grey, like steel, as the dark clouds overhead hid the sun and the powerful wind turned the waters wild, causing waves to crash down on the frozen shores of the mainland with a loud roaring sound.

It had been a number of months now since Percy had first awoken in this strange new land, or rather since he had been reborn in this place, and he uses reborn in a rather liberal sense. After all he had not been literally born into this world, so much as he had just appeared the same as he was before, though on the brink of death, only to be given a second chance at life, after which he was born a new, as something different. Something new.

After all the last thing he remembered before arriving here in this new place, this new realm, he had fighting on the slopes of Olympus, or to be more exact he had been dying.

With him having consumed too much Nectar and Ambrosia, food and drink of the Gods, during that final battle against Gaia and her forces, far more than his Demigod body could handle. Something which he knew at the time, but he still went ahead with, all so he could continue the fight, continue lashing out at the world and everything in it, all so he could continue to avoid dwelling his memories of Tartarus, and the scars his experience there had left on his soul.

Either way he had been dying, with his excessive consumption of Ambrosia and Nectar, although healing him and energizing him far beyond his limits to begin with, had then begun to kill him. With the Divine food and drink having caused him to start burning up from the inside, with his organs having started to crumble into golden dust, and his blood have begun to boil in his veins, beginning to turn into golden ichor as it became more like molten lava than the life giving fluid it should be, disintegrating his Demigodly body as it did so.

The fire within him though, the agonizing, all consuming burning sensation, had been soon quenched upon his strange and unexpected arrival here, in this strange, cold and desolate new land. This land of ice and snow.

With him being brought back from the brink of death, quite literally, brought back by some unnatural, demonic creature as something different, something new, half god, half something else.

Looking down at the steely grey sea below him, Percy raised a pale hand up in front of him, concentrating as he then tried to control the water below him to rise up like a wall, something he had done many times before back when he had been training in Camp Half Blood. However, unlike before where he could manipulate and control the oceans waters at will, the water now resisted, before it froze over and began rising up like he wanted it too.

This he had noticed always seemed to happen now, when he tried to control water it completely froze over, on top of that he had found that he no longer felt the same connection to the sea that he once had. Previously he had always had a sense of belonging when looking at the sea, feeling as if it was an old friend, one which was beckoning him home.

Now however the sea felt colder, more hostile and unwelcoming, shying away from his touch as if it were disgusted by him, with it recoiling and resisting as his power froze it and then manipulated it. It was a very jarring feeling, this disconnection with his father's Domain.

Reaching out to the wall of ice in front of him, Percy ignored the sea as it continued to rage against the coast, the waves getting bigger and the winds harsher, as if some fel power was railing at Percy, furious with him for trying to usurp control over the sea.

No, Percy ignored this as he instead traced his hand down the wall of ice, manipulating its surface as he made it reflective, showing Percy a mirror image of himself as he did so.

This was something he had gotten into a habit of doing recently, not for egotistical or narcissistically reasons though, but instead due to his curiousity over what he saw in his reflection.

Percy's physical appearance had changed a lot since coming to this world, and being reborn, though not through the traditional way people think of when the term reborn or reincarnated is bandied about, but rather through being infected, or rather turned into something else.

With his humanity having been stolen from him, that part of him dying and turning into something else, he wasn't sure what, he just knew that they called themselves 'The Others', which was not really that catchy a name in Percy's opinion. Though the name the savage locals gave them, the White Walkers, was admittedly somewhat catchier, if a little cliché, and dare he say it racist?

Either way he had changed, his previously dark black hair had turned pure white. And his formerly tanned skin tone had become as pale as freshly fallen snow. On top of that his right eye was now a cold, icy blue colour, whilst his left was an equally cold, sea green colour, though why that was the case Percy didn't know. Though he suspected it being some kind of symbolism for the death of his human half, and the birth of the new White Walker part of himself. That or it was just a weird magical anomaly.

Fortunately other than that he had mostly stayed the same, retaining his strong build, and facial features, and not growing any horns like the one that had turned him, the Night King, had.

Trailing his hand down the wall of ice in front of him, Percy's head tilted to the side. It wasn't just his physical appearance that had changed, his emotions he noticed, now felt deadened almost, as if the cold had sunk into his very soul, making it harder, icy and darker. Dulling positive emotions like pity, compassion and joy, and even some of the darker emotions, like anger and hate, stripping him of inhibitions he never knew he had.

On top of that he could now occasionally feel the cold, uncaring, insidious voice of the one who turned him, the Night King, whispering in his head, occasionally making requests and demanding his obedience.

Which was something Percy often struggled to resist or ignore, especially when in close proximity to the one that had turned him. That being said he had found that he could, if he truly put the effort in, ignore the Night King's whispers. Of course that was only if he wanted to, and for the most part he found that he couldn't quite muster up the desire to bother, his deadened emotions no doubt being the cause of this.

Did this make him a slave? A servant to the one who turned him? Like some thrall or fledgling vampire would be to their Master, maybe. But Percy liked to think that he wasn't, he could resist if he wanted to after all, though for the most part he just couldn't be bothered to do so. Following the Night King's commands gave him something to do, they gave him purpose, a reason to use his strength, sort of like a Demigod being given a quest.

"So are you going to look at your reflection all day?" A cold, slightly harsh sounding voice spoke up behind Percy, drawing his attention as he looked away from the reflective wall of ice and to the source of the voice, allowing the wall to crumble and return to the raging, angry sea around it.

"Sylvanas." Percy said bluntly, looking at the newcomer his head tilting to the side as his heterochromatic eyes scanned her up and down.

Sylvanas was somewhat like Percy, in that she had been a human once, a Free Folk as she had called herself. One who had once lived in the far north of the continent he now had found himself in, many hundreds of miles from a six hundred odd foot wall of ice which apparently separated the far north of the continent from the south, a somewhat over the top structure which was 'inventively' called 'The Wall'…, and which was apparently guarded by a group of 'southern' humans/ kneelers/ craven eunuchs, who wore all black armour and cloaks and were known to many as the Crows.

Either way Sylvanas had been born a human, the chief warrior of her tribe, the Windrunner's Clan. A large and old tribe of Free Folk that had migrated to the distant north, lived as far from the Wall, and the other, much larger, warring Free Folk Tribes, some of whom were apparently cannibalistic, as possible.

With Sylvanas's hardy and tough tribe having prospered for many generations, growing larger and larger in the relative isolation of the far north, laying down roots, and later expanding outwards as they did so to compensate for their growth.

Or at least they had prospered for a while, before the Night King and his elite warriors, the White Walkers, had been awoken from some kind of slumber by her tribe's expansion northward, and hunting and ranging.

With the Night King then beginning his journey south, wiping the whole tribe out over the course of a few days, with those that died being reanimated as undead foot soldiers, and becoming the first warriors in the Night King's ever expanding legion of the dead.

That would likely have been Sylvanas's fate too had it not been for her impressing the Night King with her determination and tenacity, or rather irritating him, with her even going so far as to kill two of the Night King's elite warriors, her dragonglass arrow heads bringing them down and ending their lives permanently.

An impressive accomplishment, which said a lot about her skills as a warrior, and one which the Night King rewarded by having her captured, and then turned into one of his White Walkers. With Sylvanas like Percy having had her humanity stripped away as she was forever changed, her emotions like Percy's having been deadened, even if her memories were not compromised.

Of course this had apparently been about a decade ago, which had given Sylvanas more time than Percy to acclimatise to her new existence. With Sylvanas herself having even less free will then Percy when it came to the Night King's whispers, most likely due to her having not been fortunate enough to be born half god like he is.

Either way the woman had managed to retain trace amounts of her old personality, even if she had likely become colder and less emotive than she had previously been due to the Night King's influence, which seemed to be the case for all of the Night King's White Walkers, and maybe the same for the Master himself.

Looking the woman up and down, Percy was once again struck by just how beautiful she was. She had a lithe, strong body, with waist length white hair that she had tied back in thick plait that ran down her back, so it did not inhibit her vision. Her skin was as pale and flawless as Percy's own was, and her features were delicate, and entrancing. On top of that her eyes were both the same cold, icy blue of Percy's right one, and they seemed to almost burn into Percy's soul whenever she looked at him.

To add to her striking appearance, Sylvanas, like Percy himself, was also clad in armour, a form fitting, archaic set of dark coloured armour, one which, like Percy, she had been given by the Night King soon after being turned. Though from just where he had scavenged them Percy didn't know, though he suspected it was likely from some ancient civilisation in the far north of the content, one which was probably linked to his origins, whatever the hell they were. With Percy's new 'boss', not exactly being the sharing or caring type.

Where Sylvanas differed from Percy though, was in her weaponry, with the beautiful white haired woman using a dark black, longbow, with bladed tips as her primary weapon, with her also using sharpened shafts of ice as her arrows. Percy however just used Riptide, or rather what was left of his old sword, the hilt and a broken inch and a half of the Celestial Bronze blade being all that remained after the battle with Gaia. Percy having used his powers to re-forge his old sword from enchanted ice.

"Come, we should not linger here, night is coming and we are moving south." Sylvanas replied to Percy, her tone cold, but also holding a slight hint of amusement in it as she eyed him up and down.

"Of course we're heading south, it is all we ever do." Percy replied dully, fully turning away from the sea now as he approached his companion. The Night King having split his elite warriors up into pairs, pairs that he then sent ever southward, all of them ranging out to attack the Free Folk settlements, driving the living south as they did so.

"We're building an army, to do that we need bodies." Sylvanas responded bluntly, shrugging her shoulders uncaringly as she then began striding back to where their column of two hundred or so undead soldiers were. "The living are at least useful for that much."

Percy absentmindedly nodded at that, no finding enough passion within himself to really care. Though he did question the point, after all there were many thousands upon thousands of people who had died in this land over the years, so there really was no end to the amount of bodies they could find if they actually looked.

With the Night King's influence having not only given the two of them control over ice, though to different degrees as Percy's control was far greater than Sylvanas's, but it had also given them necromantic abilities, similar to the ones the Children of Hades were born with. Abilities that they used to reanimate dead bodies, and turn them into a fighting force.

"Now come on, my carrion birds spotted a human settlement some twenty leagues from here." Sylvanas continued, looking up at she did so at the large undead ravens she controlled, and used to scout with. "And then after that we will continue south, following the coast."

Percy frowned at that, but nodded, she had a point they were heading ever south, ranging out further and further as they did so, guided by the Night King's commands.

Already they were some hundred or so miles away from where they had originally found Percy, lying in a plain of snow on his death bed, and since he had awoken they had been continuously on the more, none of them needing rest, or food, or sleep, as they permanently trekked south, with the Night King, who by this point was close to ninety miles further north, leading the main body of his undead legion, and raising the many dead who lay beneath the ice and snow from their eternal slumber, and adding their rotting or skeletal corpses to his legions.

With the Night King taking the often sending his elite Wight Walkers out to drive the Free Folk from their haunts and into the wilds, where they would die from either exposure to the snow, or lead them to other larger groups, all of whom they were to raise and then send back to him.

That was what Percy and Sylvanas were doing at the moment, they were pushing along the coast searching for Free Folk, killing any they found and reanimating them as they did so. The two of them being sent further south than their brethren, though for reasons as of yet unknown to them.

"Now come on," Sylvanas added, a hint of impatience entering her voice now as she looked back at him, a hint of irritation flickering through her eyes, a glimmer of emotion, one which he had not seen before.

"Coming." Frowning at this, Percy titled his head to the side curiously before he dismissed it as nothing, with him instead just sighing, before he then followed after Sylvanas.

 **( - )**

 **(A few months later)**

Ignoring the screams and shouting of the Free Folk as they fled through the frozen forests, there was a disinterested look on Percy's face as he strode after them, his sword in one hand as he cut down any mortal foolish enough to stand against him, or try and face him one on one.

His blade freezing the blood in their veins with but a touch, and shattering or scything through their poor quality iron and copper weapons.

Lifting his hand Percy conjured a spear of ice from thin air, after which he then hurled it forwards, the projectile striking a fleeing woman in the back, impaling her through the chest and forcing her to drop her own spear as she collapsed to her knees dead on impact, after which she then fell forward face down in the snow unmoving.

This wasn't a battle that much was obvious. These barbaric savages, they had no real armour save for thick furs and scraps of leather and iron, nor were they properly armed or trained, and they certainly weren't prepared for what they faced.

Looking around, Percy's now heterochromatic eyes held little emotion as he surveyed the ongoing chaos, watching as his undead soldiers threw themselves forward, some of them armed with their own primitive weapons and armour as they hacked and slashed at the living, others however just threw themselves forward bodily, tackling the Free Folk to the ground as they did so, before they then began ripping into them with teeth and nails.

No, this wasn't a battle, this was a wholesale slaughter, a slaughter of humans by monsters. Percy twitched slightly at that thought, his sword lowering slightly as he realised he was now one of those monsters, the antithesis of what he had once been.

Before he could think any more on this disturbing thought though, he was distracted by a loud war cry behind him, following by a set of heavy footsteps crunching on the snow, and heading in his direction.

Twisting on sheer instinct, Percy's blade was up and ready, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming, his lips curling back to reveal a glint of his pearly white teeth as he saw one of the savage humans charging at him. A boy of barely fourteen, clad in thick white and grey furs, and wielding a crude axe that looked to be made out of some kind of bone, probably animal, but also potentially human.

Raising his sword, Percy prepared to cut the boy down, spotting at least half a dozen gaps in his defence as he bull rushed him. The young boy, not even a man, likely knowing his chances were slim to none, but charging any way.

Seeing this Percy's head tilted curiously to one side, his mind flashed back to several instances where he had done the same, throwing away common sense for the sake of friends and family as he challenged a more powerful, skilled and experienced opponent, Ares and Atlas for example.

That thought stayed Percy's blade for a moment, the never-ending whispers of the Night Lord disappearing for a split second as Percy just watched the boy charge him, noticing the whites of the boy's eyes as he looked at Percy in terror. There was a saying Percy had heard back when he had still been back on earth, 'courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to triumph over that fear'.

This boy, for all he was pissing himself in terror, was still charging Percy head on, willingly charging to his death as oppose to hiding and fleeing. Percy's lips twitched upwards at that, even as he felt something rush by the side of his head, an arrow of pure ice then striking the boy in the chest, felling him in a single instant as it froze him from the inside out.

Percy tilted his head to the side at that, the slightest hints of pity rising up within him at the boy's life being cut so short, who knew just what he could have become. Though considering he was born in a cannibalistic tribe on the coast, it was likely he would have become more terrible than great.

"Don't get distracted." Sylvanas's harsh voice spoke out behind him, catching Percy's attention as he turned and saw the white hair woman, of indeterminate age, holding her black bow, her face contorted into a mask of distain as she twisted round and struck down two of the humans around her, the bladed tips of her bow momentarily extending into twin blades of ice as she did so.

"It's over." Percy replied calmly, looking away from Sylvanas now as he instead surveyed the battlefield, the Free Folk's village was well and truly overrun now, with nearly all of the population now lying dead or dying on the snow, their blood dyeing the frosty ground below them pink.

"I'll hunt for stragglers, you raise them." Sylvanas grunted in response, before she raised a closed fist into the air, and took off into the surrounding forest, some twenty odd undead wights following after her into the trees, even as she nimbly started dancing through the trees, her bow drawn back and an arrow of ice already forming.

Rolling his eyes at this, Percy ignored his partner's overzealous actions for the moment, as he instead sheathed his sword at his waist and looked over the massacred village, the cold wind whipping around his armoured form, bringing with it the cloying, metallic scent of blood.

Ignoring this now familiar smell, Percy instead raised his arms raising into the air, both his eye snow flashing a cold ice blue, even the sclera turning bure blue, following on from which icy power quickly flooded through his limbs, even as his gaze trailed over the piles of dead bodies.

In response to this, the corpses of the recently dead began to twitch, before they then began to move, dragging themselves to their feet, ignoring the grievous wounds that killed them, their own eyes now glowing a cold, hoarfrost blue colour as they were reanimated, and brought back in a ghastly imitation of life.

"Come." Percy then muttered, dropping his arms after a few minutes, his army having now doubled in size now he had added the bodies of the dead to their number. With him then turning and walking. Heading ever south as he did so, his army shambling after him on mass, even as Sylvanas continued to run through the surrounding forests, hunting for any of the living that had escaped the massacre.

With Percy knowing as he did so, that this same scene was likely happening across the country as the Night King's twelve elite warriors, butcher the living in his name, and built his legions, driving the Free Folk back as they did so, forcing them towards the southern human's wall of ice.

A wall of ice which would become like and anvil, one which the legions of the dead would hammer the living against, massacring them, before they then added their dead bodies to their own forces.

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime Later)**

 _"_ _Go south, go beyond the wall of ice, and lay the foundations for my coming!"_ The Night King's cold, cruel voice whispered inside of Percy's head, images flashing through his head as he did so, images such as those of settlements being racked by plague and pestilence, with mounds of bodies lying in the streets. This image being followed up by another one, this one showing armoured knight fighting against armoured knight as war overtook the lands of the south, as brother fought against brother, whittling away their own forces and paving the way for the Night King's victory.

 _"_ _Go, become my scourge, bring the lands of Westeros to their knees, and then, once that is done, bring down the wall from behind."_ The Night King's insidious voice then continued, new images coming with it as a vision of Percy leading a horde of undead, armoured men, attacked the massive wall of ice from behind, butchering the black cloaked men who guarded it as they did so, before then opening it up for the Night King and his legions to continue his advance southwards.

Percy scowled as this was happening, his face twisting in distaste as he forced the voice of the Night King away, something which was becoming easier and easier the further away he got from the horned creature.

"I take it he spoke to you to?" Percy asked as he glanced over to Sylvanas by his side, the human huntress, turned undead abomination shot him a sideways look at that, before she nodded, her icy, blue eyes then flickering back to the gigantic structure in front of them, the Wall.

"We are to cross beyond the Wall, the Night King and his other elites will continue to slowly advance south whilst we begin our work beyond the Wall." Sylvanas nodded, a momentary look of distaste/ unbridled hatred on her face at the mention of the Night King's name, before it disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.

Percy nodded at that having not noticed the look, as he instead eyed the giant wall of ice. The two of them, and their miniature army of undead warriors having now ranged far beyond where their fellow Wight Walker's had gone, with them now being nearly six hundred miles from the Night King as they pushed southwards, following the coast as they did so and razing any village, settlement or camp they came across, to the ground as they did so, even as they then raised the dead for their own army.

Not that they had come across all that many Free Folk to prey upon, after all the savage humans seemed to have wised up, and already there was a southward migration as Free Folk fled on mass to the Wall, trying to get beyond it, just as the Night King had planned.

In fact the humans had now begun to join together in a massive band, all under the command of some kind of upcoming King Beyond the Wall. A human who had begun gathering the tribes some years ago, with very limited success, though it appeared the actions of Percy and the others had spurred them onwards, and aided in this King Beyond the Walls recruitment.

Not that it would matter in the end, even if they did join together on mass. The armies of the dead were over a hundred thousand strong now and growing, on top of which it had undead giants, mammoths and direwolves. Resistance now was likely futile.

"Yes, now let's go, I will freeze the ocean, and we can walk across, avoiding the Wall entirely." Percy replied with a nod, before he began walking, Sylvanas striding alongside him, even as their horde of close to twelve hundred wights shambled along behind them. "The lands of the south will not know what hit them."

 **( - )**

 **(In an unknown location)**

There was a distinct scowl on Clotho's face as she awoke. It had taken her time, but she had tracked down the errant should of one Percy Jackson, and although it was now completely beyond her control, she could still see his fate, a fate that was still in flux, but had become much darker.

Clotho shook her head at that, her sisters might have washed their hands of this issue, deeming that they had done the right thing for the right reason, and that now Percy Jackson had been cast into chaos, the dimensional gap, that he was no longer their responsibility, but Clotho did not.

Percy Jackson was born of their world, she had spun his thread herself, and that mean that his fate was still her responsibility, even if she could no longer interfere directly.

Clotho paused at that thought, a sly smile spreading across her face as she did, before she got up. She might not be able to interfere personally, nor would a divine being last long in another, foreign realm, one which had its own gods, but a mortal would.

Clotho then nodded at that, her eyes glimmering slight as plans already began to take shape, Atropos might not give a damn, but Clotho did and she would now have to clean up her sister's mess.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think, I was kind of blown away by the response the first chapter got, so I thought I would get this out promptly, I hope it was worth it?**

 **That being said I had an interesting thought when I was writing this chapter, about how it would be interesting if I crossed this story over with my other Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones story, the Last King. After all it would be quite interesting, and amusing to write a Percy versus Percy story. One of them being a Percy who was trapped in Tartarus and sought his own escape, whilst the other one was a Percy who escaped Tartarus, but was cast out by the fates over what he could one day become.**

 **It would have been interesting to draw a distinction between the two, and a fight would have been awesome. That being said the idea then evolved into their being a third arc, with a third Percy from a canon timeline, who became a Dothraki Khal and later hooks up with Daenerys before coming to Westeros. All of which would have made a three way battle between the three.**

 **It was at that point though that I realised how ridiculous the idea was, and how long and complex it would be to write as it would require three initial stories exploring origins, development, interactions and rising to power. With all three setting the scene for a final story, this one following the three MCs as they fight it out. So yeah, although it was fun to think about, it was a pretty ridiculous idea.**

 **But yeah anyway, I decided not to, and so have other plots and plans for this story, some of which I am still working out. So I hope you all keep reading and reviewing, and if you have anything you want to ask or discuss, feel free to PM me.**

 **Thanks for reading and I'll see you later.**

 **Greed720.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hey all here is the next chapter of 'The Frozen Throne', I hope you all like it and leave a nice, healthy review at the end. Thanks for reading.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, as much as I really wish I did.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Clotho shook her head at that, her sisters might have washed their hands of this issue, deeming that they had done the right thing for the right reason, and that now Percy Jackson had been cast into chaos, the dimensional gap, that he was no longer their responsibility, but Clotho did not._

 _Percy Jackson was born of their world, she had spun his thread herself, and that mean that his fate was still her responsibility, even if she could no longer interfere directly._

 _Clotho paused at that thought, a sly smile spreading across her face as she did, before she got up. She might not be able to interfere personally, nor would a divine being last long in another, foreign realm, one which had its own gods, but a mortal would._

 _Clotho then nodded at that, her eyes glimmering slight as plans already began to take shape, Atropos might not give a damn, but Clotho did and she would now have to clean up her sister's mess._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 3**

 **( - )**

 **(In the North)**

Sitting astride her horse, Azshara Stark exulted in the feeling of the cold, northern wind as it blew through her long, unbound locks of ebony hair. The young girls lips curving into a momentary smile as she did so, revealing a flash of her pearly white teeth, something which stood out against her natural olive coloured skin tone and dark, almost onyx eyes. Features which were distinctly non-Stark, with her favouring her mother's side of the family more than her fathers.

At nearly twenty namedays Azshara was a fully grown woman now, far beyond the age that girls, both common and noble, would usually be married off, and likely have birthed several brats by now.

Despite that though Azshara was still unattached, by choice, something which the other Lords of the North were starting to frown on, with their ladies wives muttering snidely behind her back, not that she gave a damn what any of these savage cavemen thought about her.

Fortunately her guardian, Eddard Stark, was somewhat more accepting of her choices, in part because she likely reminded him of his strong willed, rebellious sister, the long deceased Lyanna Stark. Though also it was likely because as the only daughter of Ned's older brother, Brandon Stark, and his secret wife, Ashara Stark, a former Lady of House Dayne who he had secretly married a year before his death, she was the last remnant of his brother, and the last of his elder brother's bloodline.

After all her father, Brandon Stark, had been burned alive in the throne room of King's Landing only a month or so after Azshara had been born. With her mother, Ashara, taking her own life a year or so after, as the grief of Brandon's passing, the death of her brother elder brother Arthur Dayne, and the stress of raising Azshara alone had proved too much for the young woman's frail heart.

This had of course left Azshara alone in the world, an orphan with a grand heritage, but one who would likely have died early, or at least she would have, had her Uncle Eddard Stark not taken her in, and brought her back with him to Winterfell, where he acted as her guardian, and as the Lord regent of Winterfell, treating Azshara like she was his own daughter.

Though this was much to the irritation of Eddard's wife, Catelyn Stark. With the former Tully woman having been betrothed to Brandon before Ned, only for Azshara's father to have chosen love, and Ashara instead.

Suffice to say the two of them pretty much hated one another, Catelyn because of what Azshara represented in regards to how Brandon spurned her, and also because of the way she acted, like a man as oppose to a 'Noble Lady'. Azshara meanwhile just thought Catelyn was a sour, stupid, two-faced bitch, and would have more than happily slit her throat were she not 'family'.

Azshara grimaced at that uncharitable thought, her smile fading and her lips tightening into a thin line as she gazed out at the distance, the cold wind still whipping about around her, blowing her long black hair away from her flawless, olive skinned face.

Shaking her head and pushing those thoughts to one side for the moment, Azshara, or rather Zoe as she stubbornly insisted everyone call her, continued on down the King's Road, heading for her fortified home, Winterfell. Though to call the dirt track she was currently riding on a road was being generous in the extreme.

At present Zoe was riding a large, chocolate colour destrier, wearing as she did so, a set of tightly fitting black leather armour, perfectly moulded to her strong, lithe form, with an unstrung bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to the side of her saddle, and two castle forged steel, short swords strapped to her waist. Not that much of this was visible at present, because over the top of this she had a thick, grey wolf fur cloak to protect her from the chill air of the north.

Cantering down the road, Zoe tore her eyes from the horizon as she instead looked at the riders behind her. There were four of them in total, three of whom were bearded men, in their later twenties or early thirties, with these being lightly armoured Stark guardsmen that like herself were wearing thick travelling cloaks and riding warhorses. With these being the three guards that her Uncle Eddard had insisted on accompanying her whenever she went on her hunting trips.

Something she had only grudgingly accepted at first, luckily though the three men Marcus, Viktor and William were all decent enough, and were skilled warriors and loyal to a fault, with none of them ever overstepping the mark when it came to obeying her orders, or dutifully following her whims as she ranged far across the expanses of the North.

As well as those three there was also another woman with broad shoulders, thick brown hair tied back in a braid and slightly plain, yet not unpleasant features, who like Zoe was clad in fur and leather, and wielding a castle forged steel weapon at her hip. This was Zoe's closest companion at present, a warrior maiden of a similar temperament to herself, Dacey Mormont, a girl from Bear Island, and one who she had found she shared a lot of characteristics with, especially in how they both shunned the ideals of what constitutes a proper lady, and that only men can fight and hunt.

With this being an opinion that shock and horrified many of the Northern Lords, and would likely make the soft southern Lords and Ladies feel faint, as it somewhat went against the societal norm.

Then again Zoe didn't' care, after all there was far more to her than one would think, after all she had not always been the Lady Azshara Stark, no, in fact at one point in time she had been Zoe Nightshade, the Daughter of the Titan Atlas and the Goddess Artemis's Lieutenant of the Hunt. She was, and in her mind, still is a feared and revered warrior, one who had hunted and killed monsters and immortals beyond the imagination of most mortals, and had died fighting a Titan.

In fact for nearly three thousand years she had hunted and fought beside her mistress, one of her immortal maidens, a Huntress who stalked both monster, man, and immortal through the forests of the world, and in those three thousand years she had seen empires and civilisations rise and fall. As such a bit of gender based prejudice from some stuffy old Lords and uptight Ladies meant nothing to her, and although she had been reborn in a strange new world, she was still proud of who she was, and was not about to change a thing about herself to appease some mortal.

That being said, like all good things, that life had come to an end, as she had been killed by her own father, the Titan of Endurance, Atlas, whilst on a quest to free her friend and Mistress, Artemis, from the clutches of Kronos.

It had been a bit of a bitter ending to a long life, full of adventures, joy, sadness, and tribulation, dying on the slopes of her old home. Of course Artemis, her lifelong friend, had not just left it there, as for Zoe's millennia of service, the Goddess of the Moon and Hunt had weaved Zoe's soul into the star's themselves, the ultimate honour for a hero, and one very few had ever been granted.

Of course that hadn't been the end of it, as over nineteen years ago she had awoken, for her mere moments after she had finally succumbed to her wounds, and Artemis had woven her soul into the night sky.

With her awakening in form of a newborn baby, reborn as if she had been dipped in the River Lethe and given new life, only she still had her memories of her old life, with the world she had been reborn into being very different than the one she had just left.

No, this world was still almost medieval in the way its society, politics and economics worked, and considering she had lived through the Dark Ages on Earth, she was pretty confident in her assertions in regards to this. Of course she had never before involved herself in the mortal's petty concerns, with her instead being a member of Artemis's Hunt and so above such things, and so was still somewhat new to this whole living among the mortals thing.

Still she chose not to dwell on it, after all she had always been a mostly adaptable person, and after the first few years she had settled into her new life, one which was very different from her life in the Hunt, but hardly intolerable, though that might have also been because she was born into privilege as a Lady of a powerful Noble House, as opposed to being born as a peasant, or a beggar.

Shaking her head at that thought, Zoe once again focussed on the here and now, as with a memory as long as hers, she often found her mind drifting if she wasn't careful.

Currently Zoe was returning from her most recent hunting expedition in the far north, one which had led her to visiting a number of castles and towns along the way, stopping off at the local Lord, or Nobles home for the night as she did so, all under the excuse Eddard maintained when she went off on a whim, that she was continuing to build the relationships between the northern Lords.

Unfortunately though her trip had been cut short when she had received a raven from Winterfell some two weeks ago. Apparently her Uncle Eddard, who only six or so months ago had gone done south to become the new Hand of the King for Robert Baratheon had been arrested for treason. With him later being beheaded for the crime barely a week later by the King, the new King that is Joffrey, who took up the Iron Throne after his father's sudden demise.

With the new King of the Seven Kingdoms, Joffrey Baratheon, having accused Ned of the crime of treason and sedition. All due to her Uncle having apparently tried to usurp Joffrey of his 'gods given right to rule', as well as spread lies about his incestuous origins, with his father actually, according to Ned Stark, being his mother's brother, Jamie.

That being said Zoe had met Joffrey once before when he came up to Winterfell with the King all those months ago, back when her younger cousin Bran had fallen from the tower and crippled himself. And as such she knew that the boy was the very worst of his gender, an absolute turd and one she would have very much liked to have shoot through the head with an arrow. Still that wasn't the done thing, not when guest rights had been offered.

As for him being the product of incest, well Zoe trusted her Uncle's judgement and knew him to be an honourable man, more than that she had seen the madness within Joffrey and so could very much believe that he was indeed an inbred bastard. An inbred bastard that now sat the Iron Throne and ruled over the Seven Kingdoms.

A slight sigh left Zoe's full lips as she thought about her Uncles death. Ned Stark had been a man of honour and principal. He may have been a little naive, blunt and unrefined, but he had had a good heart, and from what Zoe saw he meant well. In fact Eddard had reminded Zoe very much of another man she had met just before she died, Percy Jackson. Like Eddard he had been honourable and generally decent, even if he was a little blunt, stubborn and hard-headed, and like Eddard she had been fond of him.

It was for this reason why she had cut her hunting trip short and rode back to Winterfell with all haste. Her Uncle had been killed by the tyrannical new King, her aunt had apparently gone south and kidnapped Lord Tyrian the Queen's brother, no doubt sparking off this whole mess.

Her younger cousins meanwhile, Sansa and Arya, had been in King's Landing at the time and so had been taken hostage. Which Zoe took particular exception too, as she was very fond of Arya, and despite her prissiness was quite fond of Sansa to, and as such was very angry that they had been taken hostage, after all she knew the darkness that dwelled in the hearts of mortals and had no doubt about what such animals, like the Lannister's and their men, were capable of.

On top of that, her younger cousin Robb had taken up his father's position as Lord Regent of the North, and called for his banners.

Zoe had been gone barely a month and already things were moving incredibly fast, and Robb although a decent man, was still a headstrong child. Hence why she was making such haste. Zoe would see to it that she got her cousins back, and exacted the North's revenge, though in a suitable and appropriate manner, as oppose to the standard testosterone filled Northern response, which was to go in, declare war, and smash some heads.

Rolling her eyes at that Zoe scowled off into the distance, where even now she could see the small dark smudge that was Winterfell coming into view. She was nearly home, and once she got there then she would have to take charge and get to the bottom of exactly what had happened, and then she would reign her cousin in before he made some boneheaded decision.

"Come on, we must make haste!" Zoe shouted as she dug her heels into the flanks o her mount, forcing the tired creature onwards as she wanted to make it to Winterfell before dark.

 **( - )**

 **(On Bear Island)**

There was a large scowl on Lady Maege Mormont's, rough and weathered face as she sat in the large, wooden, throne like chair in the great hall of her Keep, her large bulk covered in a faded, grey, woollen dress, over the top of which she had a thick, brown bear skin cloak on, as she glowered around at the bickering men around her.

It was at times like these that she could curse her irritating brother Jeor for abandoning his duties and instead heading for the Wall, where he was now the Lord Commander, or his idiotic son, her damnable nephew, Jorah, for getting himself exiled form Westeros for engaging in slavery, all to appease his vapid, idiotic wife, that Hightower bitch.

An irritable sigh left her thin lips at that thought, at nearly fifty years of age, Maege was getting old, far too old to be deal with this shit, especially when she should be enjoying her last few years.

Still House Mormont of Bear Island always did their duty, 'Hear We Stand', was their House words after all, and as such when their liege Lord's called then they would stand with them, resolute and to the end.

Unfortunately though his was the case now, as Ned Stark the former Lord Regent of Winterfell had been murdered in King's Landing, killed by the inbred, bastard King Joffrey and his family the vile Lannister's, all of whom cast aspersions on his honour and on the honour of the North, when they executed Ned Stark for treason, slaughtered his Household in King's Landing, and took his daughters hostage.

Thankfully his eldest son Robb remained in Winterfell, as well as is niece the fearsome Lady Azshara, both of whom would not let this heinous crime stand. With the young Wolf having sent out ravens calling for his Bannermen's aid, a call which the Bear Islands would answer with all the fury and wrath of the North.

Already it had been a week or so since the message had come, and she had gathered all the men of importance in her hall, where even now they were discussing the logistics of levying the troops, arming them properly and then shipping them over to Winterfell. All whilst leaving behind enough people to defend their shores from wildling and Iron Born raiders, and to harvest the crops and store them.

"We have a standing force of three hundred and twenty three professional soldiers my Lady. All of them armed, armoured and trained, more than that they have all already wetted their blades driving off wildlings and Iron Born marauders." Lars, her Master at Arms said gruffly, his large meaty arms folded in front of his massive chest, his thick, bearskin cloak and chain mail hauberk making him look even bigger as he did so.

"Furthermore we are able to raise nearly four thousand levies if we push it, most of whom have their own weapons and at least some armour. Though some of that equipment will be old and battered, probably passed down from father to son for generations, and so will need replacing. Still many of the levies will have at least some basic experiences holding off raiders." Hef added on, the captain of Maege's Household guards, and the Chief Warrior of their forces, nodding his head and stroking his scruffy blonde beard thoughtfully as he did so.

"And how long will it take to gather them?" Maege asked as she looked between the two large men, trusting in their judgement as she did so, after all they were both in charge of the upKeep of Bear Island's military and their training, and she would be bringing both of them with her when she went to join the young Wolf.

That being she could only hope that Dacey, her eldest daughter, would be there too, as she wanted her eldest to get her first taste of battle, after all she would be taking over the running of Bear Island after Maege died. Her other child Lyanna meanwhile would be sitting as the Lady of Bear Island whilst she was gone, with the advice of the island's Maester who would hopefully Keep things running in her absence.

"It's not gathering them that's the issue my Lady, we already have over a thousand in the town now. What's more problematic is shipping them over to the mainland and then feeding them in a timely manner." The Bear Island's Maester, a weasel like man called Reinhart said from the other side of the room to Lars and Hef, the skinny man flinching slightly as the gazes of Hef and Lars landed on him, both of them being devoted followers of the Old Gods and none too keen on the southern Maester and his ways.

"We'll just seize repurpose some barges and borrow some fishing boats." Lars replied dismissively.

"Yes but in doing so we will cut off the supply of fresh fish to the island." Reinhart replied.

"A temporary measure, and one which will only be for a few weeks whilst we gather our forces and ship them over to the main land." Lars responded bluntly, waving away the smaller man's concerns.

"Yes but if we are to feed our troops we will need to empty Bear Islands stores for the march to Winterfell, and the loss of that many people from the island will make replenishing the stores before the long winter all but impossible, especially if we are missing most of our fishing boats." Reinhart replied, his own voice getting quite heated at the other men's dismissive attitudes. "On top of that, if too many warrior go, it would leave us vulnerable to wildling and Iron Born raids."

"It's still summer, and hopefully this conflict will be over before winter arrives." Hef shot back waving his hand airily at Reinhart. "We still have time. As for the wildings and Iron Born, their raids are always small, and we'll leave enough men to throw them back into the sea if they come for us."

"Reinhart makes a good point, it's all well and good answering the Stark's call, but we must also look to the safety of our own people." Maege finally spoke up, looking between the three men irritably as they continued to bicker.

"Then what would you suggest my Lady?" Lars asked, his tone more deferential and respectful as he looked to the older woman.

"We take only three thousand spears with us, including the household guard. The rest we leave here to replenish the stores and fend off wildling and Iron Born raids." Maege replied after a few moments, knowing as she did that at a push the Bear Islands could produce five thousand spears, a sizeable army of levies, and one of the reasons why despite their slightly isolated location they were still so powerful a Northern House. That being said Reinhart made a good point, and a good ruler always looked to the future as well as the present.

Hef nodded at that, taking his hand away from his beard as he did so, though he did send Reinhart a sour look before he turned to full mace the she-bear, Maege Mormont, not liking how they would be reducing their own forces, and so their influence when they join the main Northern host, and the new Lord Regent gathers his war council.

"If that is your will my Lady." Lars rumbled a few moments later.

Lady Maege opened her mouth to respond to that, her sharp blue eyes narrowing at her Master at Arms tone of voice, something she was very tempted to slap out of the truculent man, after all they were going to war, and respect for the chain of command was crucial.

Before she could however she was distracted by a sudden ringing sound, as a loud gong echoed across the island. A sound she recognised as she had heard it many times before over the decades, after all the sound came from one of the watchtowers that dotted the island. More importantly though, it came from the watchtower that over looked the bay her castle and the main town on Bear Island sat.

"A raid now of all times!" Maege grumbled irritably as she heaved herself up out of her throne like chair and strode to the small windows of her great hall, both Lars and Hef following as they made to look out of the castle and out over the attached town and rocky coast line, expecting to see either a couple of Iron Born ships, or some rickety wildling craft as they did so.

"What in the…" Lars mumbled under his breath as he looked out over the bay, only to see a thick mist rolling in from the sea, or rather what was the sea, as even now he could see the rough, choppy waters freezing over, the frost spreading across the shore as it did so, leaving behind it nothing but a plain of crested, white ice.

Ignoring the warning bell as it continued to ring out over the town, Maege, Lars and Hef could only watch as the sea froze over, and the clouds overhead darkened, even as hail and snow began to fall. More than that though they could also see a large mass of shadowy shapes marching through the thick mist, walking across the frozen sea and towards the coast.

"What sorcery is this!?" Maege demanded as she saw her breath misting in front of her, even as the snow and hail continued to rain down on the castle and surrounding town, the beginnings of a blizzard beginning to whip up from seemingly out of nowhere. "How can winter have come upon us so fast?"

"I'm not sure this is winter." Reinhart replied in a shaky, hoarse voice as he gestured at the large crowd of raiders shambling towards them, or rather at the two mounted individuals leading them, both of who they could see from the Keep's window were as white as the snow, wearing dark armour and riding on the backs of skeletal horses. Just looking at them they could feel a chill run down their spines.

"How many spears did you say we have already?" Maege asked weakly as she saw the shambling mass getting ever closer to the shore, even as the settlement around her Keep exploded into action, as men and women both grabbed weapons and ran to repel the invaders, all of them no doubt thinking this was another Iron Born or wildling raid, part of the course for living on an island this far up north.

"Thirteen hundred at present, all of them billeting in the town, though only three hundred of them are fully equipped, trained and battle-ready at present." Lars, her Master at Arms replied dutifully.

"It'll do!" Hef suddenly erupted before he grabbed the large sword at his hip and drew it in a single motion. "I'll lead the defence of the town, Lars you gather the household guard and defend the Keep."

Lars nodded at that, any thought of arguing gone for the moment as he instead grabbed Hef's forearm, the other man doing the same as the two battle brothers clasped arms. "Fight well brother, and come back alive."

"You as well brother, if I fall make sure the Keep holds." Hef returned, before with a nod he broke off and marched out of the hall, bellowing orders all the while as he headed towards the Keep's entrance, and the panicking town outside.

"Come my Lady, we need to ready the defences and lower the portcullis." Lars said as he turned back to Lady Mormont.

Only for him to see she had already drawn her own sword from where it was hanging beside her chair, the castle forged steel glinting in the light from the hall's roaring fire as she met his gaze, her aged disposition fading as her heart began to beat faster at the thought of the battle to come. "Ready the men, we'll show these craven what it means to attack Bear Island!"

 **( - )**

 **(At the same time, approaching the coast)**

Looking on at the mid-sized settlement in front of him, Percy's placid gaze scanned over the couple of hundred wooden buildings scattered before him, and the two metre or so spiked, wooden palisade that surrounded it, all of which was sat on a slightly raised portion of the island, looking down on the rocky coast line and the island's small dock.

With there being a large, forbidding castle rising over all, a squat, blocky looking Keep which was about twenty or so metres tall, with a small tower on each of its four corners and a number of small windows, arrow slits really, dotted around the outside of the Keep, at the very top, windows which were probably there for archers to shoot out of if the Keep were to be attacked.

Ignoring the sound of the town's bells as it rang out, Percy's gaze instead roamed over the fourteen hundred or so mass of undead bodies that made up his own forces, grimacing slightly as he did so.

The undead, for all they lacked fear, and felt no pain or mercy, they were not the most useful of foot soldiers. These reanimated corpses, they lacked the full sentience and initiative of living beings, as such when using them your tactics could only be simple, which was somewhat annoying.

Still they also had uses, they felt no fear, and had a certain psychological impact on whoever they faced, after all it would take a brilliant leader to maintain the discipline of his troops and curb the inherent fear the undead caused. On top of that, common issues like feeding his soldiers and letting them have rest didn't apply to the undead, and any soldiers he lost could be easily recouped through necromancy. Still there were limitations, and they did have weaknesses.

Looking away from his undead horde Percy's gaze instead shifted to his right, his focus now on beautiful, cold looking Sylvanas who, like Percy himself, was now mounted on a skeletal, undead horse, her bow held at the ready in her right hand as the two of them led their army towards the panicking island's largest settlement.

Unlike Percy though, the white haired woman's gaze showed no concern as she easily controlled her mount, her glowing blue eyes trailing over the settlement as it erupted into action, hundreds of people flooding forth, all of them holding an assortment of weapons, even as a couple of mangonels and ballistae were brought forth from wooden storehouses on the coast. This island was clearly no stranger to raids.

Not that such preparation would help them, not against the legion of the dead.

Percy let out a sigh of that, his gaze sombre as he saw the mortals grabbing weapons and preparing their defences.

It had been three days now since they had left the land beyond the Wall, with Percy having frozen the sea around the Wall, allowing both Percy and Sylvanas to walk their ever-growing undead horde across the frozen sea and complete by pass the colossal wall of ice, and the protective magicks that had been woven into it.

In fact the whole ordeal had been pretty easy and simplistic, they had passed complete unnoticed, walking on the frozen water even as a blizzard formed around them, hiding them from view.

Now though they had found their quarry, a large, heavily wooded island somewhat isolated from the rest of the mainland, but which had a large amount of living beings on it.

It would be a perfect staging ground for the Night King's scourge of the Seven Kingdoms. Of course first they had to take it, massacring the inhabitants as they did so and reanimating them to bolster their ever-growing forces.

The thought of which for Percy, caused the first stirrings of unease to build up within him, feelings which the now much quieter whispers of the Night King couldn't quite assuage.

 **( - )**

 **AN: Well what a place to stop eh, I was so tempted to continue onwards, but no, I decided to leave the Battle of Bear Island until next chapter. After all this will be my first proper battle scene, so I want to make sure it is done right, and isn't just pointless action for the sake of pointless actions.**

 **That being said there was a lot more to this chapter than that, as now we have the revelation of just what Clotho did to interfere, as Zoe is now around. With this in part due to some brilliant advice I got for those willing to be my sounding board, so thanks to MicrosoftGamer789 for your help. I was originally going to bring several of the Seven in and settle them around Westeros and Essos, which probably would have split the story up with too many points of views.**

 **Suffice to say I am pretty excited for what follows, after all where Percy has power, Zoe has experience and power of her own, and on top of that they had a connection already, so I am interested to explore that.**

 **Of course like with my other PJ/ GoT story I will be expanding on and developing the magical creatures of the Game of Thrones verse more than I feel the books or the show did, or at least in a different way.**

 **Either way this was the chapter, I hope you all liked it. Plus you're lucky I managed to hold off the sudden desire to write a Percy Jackson/ DC story, as I instead forced myself to concentrate on my already existing stories. Which trust me was a bit of a pain, as I have so many ideas for other stories.**

 **Still I managed to get it out, so I hope you all like it. Thanks for reading and I hope you all leave a nice big review for me to read.**

 **See you all later.**

 **Greed720.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hey all here is the next chapter of the Frozen Throne, I hope you all enjoy it. The support so far has been brilliant and I really appreciate it. As always I love to read long reviews and peoples' thoughts on what have happened thus far, and what might happen in the future.**

 **Hope you all enjoy the chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, or Game of Thrones, or a Song of Ice and Fire.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _In fact the whole ordeal had been pretty easy and simplistic, they had passed complete unnoticed, walking on the frozen water even as a blizzard formed around them, hiding them from view._

 _Now though they had found their quarry, a large, heavily wooded island somewhat isolated from the rest of the mainland, but which had a large amount of living beings on it._

 _It would be a perfect staging ground for the Night King's scourge of the Seven Kingdoms. Of course first they had to take it, massacring the inhabitants as they did so and reanimating them to bolster their ever-growing forces._

 _The thought of which for Percy, caused the first stirrings of unease to build up within him, feelings which the now much quieter whispers of the Night King couldn't quite assuage._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 4**

 **( - )**

 **(On Bear Island)**

The mangonel on the shore of Bear Island fired again, launching a large stone out across the now frozen sea which surrounded the island, the rocky ammunition, which usually sank boats with a single hit, instead smashing into the ice and the small army of undead that were running across, plunging through the ice as it did, and dragging at least half a dozen reanimated corpses into the icy water with it, their mangled, decaying bodies swiftly sinking into the briny depths.

It was all futile though, because as Percy looked on at the ongoing battle from his undead mount, he waved his hand, almost nonchalantly, and the water froze over again. With the rest of the undead horde, numbering well over a thousand, continued their assault.

Even as Sylvanas, who rode trotted along next to him on her own steed, used her bow to send volley after volley of arrows, made of ice, over the top of the palisade around the port, her every shot felling yet another of Bear Island's defenders, as they flew far further than one would think possible, the arrows of ice cutting through fur and chainmail with ease.

"Aim for the ones operating the war machines." Percy spoke up from where he sat next to the white haired woman, absentmindedly manipulating the ice below him as he did so, after which he raised a wall of ice from the frozen sea, one which went on to block a ballistae bolt sent at him from one of the half dozen war machines that dotted the besieged coast line. Machines that were usually used to drive off raiders.

Only for Percy to then flick his hand, and shatter the wall, after which he sent the remnants of the icy wall hurtling over his horde of soldiers and at the palisade. The sharpened shards of ice hitting the wall of wooden spikes with high velocity, tearing through it as it did so, before it then rained down upon the defenders, cutting down a least half dozen men. The sharpened shards of ice scything through fur and leather armour, ironically like a hot knife through butter, after which they struck the rocky ground and shattered, spraying those around them with smaller fragments of ice.

Sylvanas grunted at Percy in reply to that, before she angled her bow and unleashed another volley, the icy arrow she released multiplying in mid-air as she used her own ice based magic, which although not on the same level as Percy's, was still pretty damn formidable. After which the arrows rained down on the men operating several of the war machines, the projectiles not accurate as usual due to splitting in mid-air, but still very deadly as several Bear Island soldier's found out personally.

"Advance the army." The white haired woman then retorted to Percy, as she ignored the cries of pain and dying men from behind the palisade and instead looked at her partner, her glowing blue eyes boring into him expectantly.

"They are advancing," Percy returned, his gaze shifting over to their army of well over a thousand undead soldiers, all of whom were moving forward on mass, with them having reached the palisade by now, where they were attempting to force their way through, or in some cases over the top.

Which was not an easy task as the defenders of Bear Island were putting up a fierce defence, raining down arrows, rocks, hot tar and ballistae bolts onto the undead horde as they did. The hardened northerners standing strong, even half an hour after battle was joined, as they held their defensive line, nearly a hundred men standing on the wooden platform that ran just along the back of the tall wall of wood stakes.

Despite their efforts though their defences could only last so long, after all they only had a finite number of defenders available, far less than the army that Percy himself commanded. On top of which for every one of their number that fell, so too would Percy's army grow, as he would then be able to use his necromantic abilities to reanimate the corpses of the fallen and add their numbers to his own.

All in all the defenders of Bear Island's position was unsustainable, and unlike the dead, they would tire, and when they did, well, then they themselves would be dead.

"We need to break through the palisade and take the fight to the enemy." Sylvanas replied, even as she used her bow to snipe down the crew of the mangonel.

Percy looked over to Sylvanas at that, weighing up her words as he did so, before he then looked back over at the ongoing battle. "Then I join the battle properly, and will lead from the front."

With that said Percy willed his undead mount onwards, the half rotten horse starting forwards, slowly at first, before it began to speed up, even as Percy drew his sword of ice, Riptide's hilt feeling comfortable and familiar in his hand, even if it didn't have the same warm glow to it that it once had, the shattered blade having now been replaced by replica one, which was made of magical ice.

Tightening his grip on his sword, Percy soon plunged through the undead horde, the reanimated corpses moving to make way for him as he charged the palisade, his breath coming out even and slow as he whipped his sword around, focusing on the ice around him as he did so.

In response to his actions the ice around him exploded outwards, massive spikes erupting forth from the frozen ocean and striking the palisade, smashing holes in the wooden walls as they did so and sending the defenders sprawling back, some of them clutching bloody wounds, either from shards of ice, or from large splinters of woods.

Percy though ignored all of this as he instead urged his undead horse onwards, smashing through the scrum of undead trying to force their way through the gaps as he instead paved the way, slashing through two Bear Island warriors, who were trying to plug one of the gaps with their shields, as he did so.

Of course by the time he did get through, the panicked Bear Islander's had already started to rally, with two of them shooting at Percy's horse, trying to dismount him, even as other raised their shield and created an impromptu shield wall just behind the now compromised palisade.

The northerners standing strong despite their fear, as dozens of reanimated wildlings forced their way through the gaps in the palisade, their numbers growing from dozens to nearly hundred as Percy swung his sword around, batting the two arrows away even as his army continued to grow behind him.

After which he swung his leg over his horse and dismounted, his heterochromatic eyes flicking over the spears he could see protruding from the shield wall, even as his undead army continued to swell, the palisade rupturing in a couple more places as over a thousand reanimated corpses tried to force their way through.

Twirling the sword in his hand, Percy felt his feet crunch on the ice encrusted rocky shore as he took a step forward, something which caused a slight smile to spread across his face as he looked up at the nervously shifting defenders.

"Hyah!" Percy shouted, a flash of jubilation flowing through him as he drew on his Demigod abilities, this one being his father's Domain over Earthquakes, an ability that his conversation into a White Walker hadn't corrupted.

Raising his foot, Percy's slammed it down on the rocky shore, the ground beneath him cracking and shattering, even as a shockwave erupted outwards from him, scattering both his own soldiers and Bear Island soldiers as he it did so.

The shockwave also causing the ground to shake as buildings within the town around Bear Island collapsed, even as the already damaged palisade broke apart into a pile of kindling, the shockwave spreading out as he did so, cracking the icy seas around him, for a moment, before the surprised looking Sylvanas froze it over again.

"Hah!" Percy then grunted as his foot shifted forwards and he twisted his free hand around, his expression twisting into a frown of concentration as he clenched his hand into a fist, after which he then thrust it forwards.

In response to which the ground around him exploded, rocks shooting out away from him and towards his enemies, like bullets, some of the rocks being the size of a fists, whilst others were the size of a man, and one or two were even the size of a fully grown warhorse. Either way they collided with the staggering and shaken shield wall, the rapidly moving, heavy projectiles smashing through the wall and felling dozens more, with some of the projectiles then continuing their paths through the shield wall and into the settlement behind it.

Something which caused a slight grimace to spread across Percy's face, before he pushed down his discomfort over killing these people, with him instead clinging onto the icy feeling within him instead, as he raised his sword and commanded his undead forces onwards, so that they could take advantage of the ruptured shield wall.

His hundreds of soldiers, some of whom were wearing rotting furs and carrying weapons made of bone, whilst others wore corroded iron armour and weapons of warped bronze, charged forwards at his command. Rapidly smashing into the disarrayed defenders of Bear Island as they did so, hacking and clawing at the living as they did so, their eyes glowing blue with endless fury as they scattered and butchered the defenders.

The now already broken shield wall shattering entirely now as men turned and fled, their inherent fear of the undead, mixed with Percy's own fel abilities and the ongoing slaughter, all proving to much, even for the hardy northerner's stubborn, hard-headed bravery.

Not that this helped them much as the undead horde was merciless and implacable, with more and more of them erupting out of the collapsed and broken palisade now, overtaking the docks and spreading into the settlement as they overran the shore and pushed ever onwards.

With Sylvanas herself entering the fray now, her bladed bow already stained with blood as she slashed away and slaughtered any living person stupid enough to get in her way, that or she drew her bow and cut down those that were still fleeing.

Seeing all of this, Percy could only watch on an empty feeling in his stomach as he heard the screams and shouts of the living spreading and increasing in volume, even as they were all ruthlessly butchered. The panicked terror rapidly spreading through the streets, along with the undead horde as they continued their indiscriminate slaughter, with the undead not caring about gender, age, status or wealth, as they just treated all equally, in that they gave them all a swift and brutal death.

Looking around, Percy telepathically commanded his undead mount to approach him, the half rotted horse trotting obediently over to Percy, unbothered by the carpet of bodies that littered the floor as it instead looked at him, its glowing blue eyes boring into him.

It was as he was doing this though, that a massive blonde, bearded, bear of a man, clad in what once must had been shining silver chainmail and fur, and wielding a large, bloodied great sword, broke through the undead in front of Percy and instead charged at one of the leaders of the undead army, with a roar. The man in question hacking and slashing through several undead warriors as he charged the armoured, pale skinned Percy, rightly recognising him as the leader.

With also likely concluding that by killing Percy, he would cause the undead army to collapse, as his necromantic power and will would no longer drive it onwards. Which again was also true, though Sylvanas was also capable of necromancy, and could likely hold at least remnants of the army together long enough to take the island.

"Bastard!" The man bellowed as he swung his sword at Percy, only for Percy's ice blade to whip up and block it, the man's castle forged steel blade shattering due to the aura of cold coming off Percy's blade.

With this confusing the man for a moment as he stared at it in shock, only for him to look down with a grunt as Percy grabbed him by his great, big, bushy beard and dragged him forward, his thin blade of ice piercing through the man's chest as Percy thrust it forward with full force, chainmail links bending and breaking, even as the man's blood froze in his body when it came in contact with Percy's blade.

Releasing the bearded man's beard, Percy twisted his blade and ripped it out of the corpse, watching coolly as the blonde man collapsed to the ground dead, after which Percy then turned to his mount that even now was still causally trotting over to him.

Patting the horse on its cold, frost coated neck, Percy grabbed the reins of his steed tightly, after which he swung himself round, and once again settled himself into the saddle, even as he looked around, his gaze saddened, but not regretful as he took in the surrounding carnage.

Shaking his head as he took it all in, he then looked away, and instead urged his horse onwards, heading for the large stone keep that towered over the settlement as he did so.

Already he could see that the keep's portcullis had been dropped and the large wooden doors barred shut, and that there were still obviously people inside the keep, that much was obvious as he could see that there were bowmen hidden behind the parapets of the keep's outer walls, futile raining down arrows on the rampaging undead below. Even as some of them charged forward and slammed into the stone walls that surrounded the keep and then began to uselessly scrabble against it, trying to find handholds that they could use to pull themselves up and over.

Percy could of course understand the defenders reasoning for closing the keep's portcullis and locking heavy wooden doors of the outer walls, but despite that he couldn't help but feel anger and disgust at the people inside, as he saw the still living people of Bear Island slamming into the wooden doors, desperately crying out to be let in, only to be slaughtered by the dead as they did so.

He knew it was hypocritical to feel pity for the living when he was the one ordering their slaughter, but he couldn't help it. He knew he had a duty to fulfil, but even so he felt conflicted over it, a feeling he had not had when he was back beyond the Wall, and in closer proximity to the Night King.

Already he was questioning just why he was doing this? He was a Demigod after all, he was the pinnacle of mortal power and ability. He was a born Hero, one who had led armies against the forces of Tartarus and faced down the very epitome of the Pit. Yet here he was, having become like the very enemy he had once fought against.

"The settlement is ours, the rest of the island will fall just as easily. All that really remains now is the southerner's stone house." Sylvanas said as she rode up next to Percy, her cold blue eyes locked on the keep, even as their undead soldiers finished purging the town of the living.

"We will crack the keep open like an egg then." Percy replied blandly, looking over at the hauntingly beautiful, white haired woman as he did so, before he then looked back at the keep. "After which we will take control of the island and consolidate our forces."

Sylvanas nodded at that. "Good, it will be nice to have a moment to rest, at least for a while."

Percy sent her an odd look at that. "Do we really need rest though?"

Sylvanas's lips curled upwards in amusement as she heard that. "Physically no, but I grow weary of fulfilling the Night King's plan day after day."

"But don't you still see him as your master?" Percy asked, interested now, as he ignored the slaughter going on around him, and instead had a calm discussion with his partner.

"I… I do still serve his will… but I find…" Sylvanas replied haltingly, looking to struggle with her wording for a moment, before she looked over at Percy with a frown. "I both want to serve him, yet I also don't… it is an odd feeling. I know his plan will bring order to this chaotic world, but I find myself disagreeing with parts of the plan…"

"Then why haven't you raised your concerns to him?" Percy asked, his gaze still locked on Sylvanas, easily ignoring the now much fainter whispers of the Night King in his head.

"Because I wasn't aware I had any until just recently." Sylvanas replied, with clear discomfort in her tone now, one of the first hints of genuine uncertainty and emotion that he had ever heard in her voice before, very different to her usual dark amusement and detached interest, before she then looked away and over at the keep. "This conversation is meaningless, we have a castle to besiege and an island to subdue."

"Of course." Percy replied dryly, as he too looked forward, a hint of amusement flashing through him, before the cold feeling of emptiness began to overtake him again and his amusement faded, his gaze instead settling upon the keep. His hands both raising in the air as he did so.

In response to which all the fallen bodies around him, both warriors and citizens began to stir, their bodies shaking for a moment, before their eyes' turned a glowing blue colour, after which they began to get up. Percy and Sylvanas's forces doubling in but a moment, even as more undead foot soldiers clawed their way out of the frozen ground, in graveyards all around the edges of the settlement.

 **( - )**

 **(Inside of the Keep)**

"My Lady we've lost the lower town!" Reinhart shouted as he ran over to the Lady Maege Mormont, his expression panicked, as he rushed over to where the older, weary looking woman was stood by one of the great hall's windows, a grim look on her face as she gripped the sword in her hand tighter.

"I can see that." Maege replied softly, even as she looked down and saw her subjects dying, her old heart breaking as she saw some of them begging and pleading to be allowed into the keep, only to be denied for the safety of the others inside, with these people being butchered soon after, begging and screaming for mercy as they did.

"This… this is a nightmare, some eldritch horror from the story books." Reinhart whispered behind her, as they saw the undead tearing through their home and butchering their people. "Whoever thought those fairy tales of old would actually be real!"

"This is no fairy tale." Maege said softly, her tone sounding almost broken, even as she looked over and saw how the unstoppable, implacable dead had now begun climbing over the wall. Even as one of the mounted, pale skinned beings rode forwards, his hands weaving through the air before he thrust them forward, the ground around him freezing over, even as a massive spire of rock erupted from ground, directly underneath the gatehouse.

The walls rupturing before exploding upwards as the spire tore through it, chunks of rock falling amongst the horde of undead soldiers outside, and within the courtyard. Not that the legion of the dead seemed to care as they instead just flooded through the broken walls, ripping and tearing any living being they found to pieces, easily overcoming the warriors of Bear Island's impromptu defences as they did so.

"What can mere humans do against such cold, cruel evil? How can we stand against such reckless, all consuming hatred?" Maege asked softly as she saw the courtyard swiftly overwhelmed even as the two riders rode in, both of them dismounting as they did so, before they then entered the fray, cutting through anybody who stood against them.

"My lady, they're in the keep!" Lars shouted as he ran into the great hall, a dozen armed and armoured men following after him, along with Maege's youngest daughter, Lyanna, and her nursemaid. With some of the men turning and dragging tables and chairs in front of the door, blockading it, even as they heard the sounds of shouting, screaming and fighting coming from outside of the great hall, and within the keep itself.

"W-what how?" Reinhart asked shakily, his hands quaking as he looked down and saw the male White Walker walk forward and shatter the portcullis, freezing it solid as he did, which caused the iron structure to shatter outwards.

After which the heavy wooden doors followed, with the undead then surging inside, where battle was once again joined between the living and the undead, led by the two White Walkers, both of whom were now at the forefront of the legion of the dead, fighting like the devils they were.

"They came up from the crypts beneath the keep, there were hundreds of them, and they overwhelmed the kitchens and the barracks first, and then spread throughout the rest of the keep. We tried to hold them back, but they survived being, stabbed, beaten cut in half and dismembered, you can only kill the damn things by burning them, that or by caving their heads in." Lars replied, his breathing heavy now as he looked to his Lady.

Knowing from his recent experience just how difficult they were to kill, in fact it had taken him throwing a lit torch at them to make them back off. With the fire quickly consuming scores of them, as it ate away at their dry, dusty bones and rotting clothing, the narrow stone corridors within the keep channelling the fire so it did the most damage, even if said damage was uncontrolled, and had ended up cutting Lars and his group off from the rest of the defenders.

"They've broken through the front doors too!" Reinhart shouted in response, his tone almost hysterical now as looked around at the other people in the room. "There's no escape, what in hells are we going to do?!"

"Keep it together man! Now come on, we need to barricade the doors!" Lars snapped, as he glared at the waste of space Reinhart, before looking back at Maege. "My lady, I fear our only hope is to wait it out."

"By the Gods man, there is no point in lying." Reinhart shouted in panic, his eyes wide and terrified as he did so. "There is no way out of this, there is no escape, and this will be our end."

"Then we will make it such an end that it is worthy of remembrance!" Maege replied fiercely as she turned away from the window and look around the room, her gaze flickering to her terrified looking daughter, Lyanna, for a moment in regret. Sad that her youngest would die here with her, but also glad that her eldest, Dacey, was not here to share their fate. She may die this day, but House Mormont would endure. "Now ready yourselves, for we will not go silently into the night, nor will we go with a whimper, instead we will charge in, a sword in our hand and a war cry on our lips!"

"You heard my Lady!" Lars bellowed, a fierce grin on his face now as he looked over at the others, even as the barricaded doors began to shake, and the screams and sounds of battle faded. "We might be fucked, but we're not going to go down without a fight! Now let's show them what the words 'Here we stand' mean!"

The dozen or so warriors in the room all roared at that, even as the barricaded door exploded outwards, shards and spikes of ice erupting out of it as it did so, after which the two black armoured White Walkers entered the hall, with dozens of undead monstrosities surging in after them.

"Now come on, let's show them what it means to fight the warriors of Bear Island!" Lars roared before he charged forward, the other men following after him, charging into certain doom, with Maege moving Lyanna behind her, even as she raised her sword, more than prepared to die protecting her daughter.

Within moments the battle was joined as the undead flooded forward, killing half of the men in the first few moments, through sheer numbers as they ripped them to pieces. The others fell soon after as the two White Walkers darted forward, their weapons whipping through the air, cutting down the defenders with ease.

With both Percy and Sylvanas moving in sync as Percy lashed out with his sword, his movements swift and accurate, as he strode forwards, batting aside slashes and stabs, and then lunging forward into the gaps in their defences with blistering speed. His style of fighting quick and efficient, as he brought his immense skill with a blade to bear, and then combined it with his heightened physical attributes.

Sylvanas however was far more brutal and acrobatic as she leapt forward, practically dancing through the enemy. The bladed ends of her bow moving swiftly through the air as she slashed away at the surrounding men with sheer, overwhelming ferocity.

"You fucker!" Lars roared as he bullrushed Percy, his sword lowered as he did so, with him being under no illusions that he would survive this day. Though that was not to say that he would not make the undead scum pay a hefty price for his life first.

Twisting his head to see the giant of a man charging him, Percy raised his hand, forming a spear of ice in front of his palm as he did so.

However before he could unleash it, Lars was intercepted by another hulking figure, this one being an armoured, reanimated Bear Island soldier clad in mail and furs, one who smashed Lars clear off of his feet, before he began clawing at his face.

"Hef!" Lars shouted, as he thrust his head forwards, head-butting his dead battle brother in the head as he did so, before he rolled away, making it to his feet as he did so, only to find his friend charging him again. "Not you too!"

Hef though wasn't capable of speech as he instead charged Lars again, heedless of the man's giant sword, or of the sorrow and heartbreak in his eyes. With Hef instead being driven on by the will of his Master, to destroy!

"Hyah!" Lars bellowed as he swung his sword round, the blade smashing Hef in the head taking the man's head off, which succeeded in killing his friend for the second time, but which didn't stop the large man's momentum, as his now headless body cannoned into Lars, knocking him off his feet and onto the ground, where he swiftly became prey for the other undead in the room, several of whom leapt upon him, hacking him to pieces with their weapons whilst he was down.

Ignoring this Percy instead allowed the spear of ice to disperse, as his gaze instead landed on the Lady Maege, who despite her terror was still standing in front of her daughter, her sword raised and held in quaking hands as she prepared to defend the young, dark haired girl with her life.

 **( - )**

 **(With Zoe, in Winterfell)**

Riding into the courtyard of Winterfell, Zoe barely glanced around at the busy, bustling yard, and the scores of stable hands, servants and men at arms, that were running about, shoeing horses, bundling up weapons, packing up wagons with foods and sheaths of arrows, and just general going about their duties as they prepared for the upcoming war.

Yes, Zoe ignored all of that as she and her companions entered the courtyard, the striking, dark haired woman sliding off her horse with practiced ease before she handed the reins over to a stable hand, not even looking at him as her gaze was instead locked on a large balcony that overlooked the courtyard.

It was a balcony that she often remembered her Uncle standing on as he looked down proudly upon his son's and her own training. Now however the man standing on the balcony overlooking the organised chaos that was the courtyard, was not the dark haired, grim faced, grey eyed Eddard Stark. But was instead his auburn haired, blue eyed son Robb, a far softer boy than his father, an unseasoned child of summer if ever there was one.

With the nineteen year old boy in question standing amongst a group of his generally older advisors, all of whom were wearing heavy dark coloured, fur cloaks, over the top of chainmail, or plate amour, as they watched the ongoing preparations for the journey south, and the upcoming campaign against the new King, Joffrey Baratheon, or Waters, depending on who you believe, and his Lannister supporters.

Making eye contact with Robb, Zoe could see the younger boy flinch as her dark eyes locked on him, before he started to move, even as Zoe strode inside. The soldiers, courtiers and servants all moving swiftly out of her way as they saw the 'fuck off' expression on her face.

Already Azshara, or rather Zoe, had gained somewhat of a contradictory reputation in the North. As she was known for being fiercely loyal to her people, and generous to the smallfolk around her. On top of which she was known to be incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, which made even the most dismissive and bigoted of Lords take note when she spoke.

However on top of that, she was also known for being absolutely brutal and without mercy to those that broke the laws of the land, especially those who harmed women and children, with death being a mercy for the ones she laid her hands on. On top of which she was known as a ferociously skilled fighter and archer, despite her gender, and had somewhat of a reputation, for having a terrifying temper when angered.

And at the moment she looked angry, hence why people got out of her way as she passed, as none wanted to bear the brunt of her temper, and her terrifyingly sharp tongue.

"Cousin." Robb said calmly as he met Zoe in the great hall of Winterfell a few minutes later, his advisers still present, but standing a respectful distance away as Robb greeted his cousin.

Zoe didn't batter an eyelash at Robb's greeting though as she entered, her companions following after her, before they then moved off to onside behind her, her friend Dacey grinning slightly in anticipation of what she knew was to come.

"You gods damned idiot!" Zoe said swiftly as she approached Robb, her hand whipping out and gripping the taller boy by the ear before she pulled him down towards her, so she was looking him dead in the eye.

With her ignoring the inappropriateness of her actions, as although Robb might be the son of the Lord Regent of Winterfell, she was the Lady of Winterfell, the only daughter of Ned Stark's older brother Brandon, and so outranked him and any other noble in the North. On top of which she knew she was more than capable of crushing every man present in single combat if she were minded to, and knew, that despite their grumbling and groaning about it, that all of these men present knew it.

"What the hell do you think you were doing, calling the banners!?" Zoe demanded as she released Robb, though only after she heard his cry of anguish. The former Huntress ignoring the disapproving mutters of Robb's advisers as she instead grabbed Robb by the front of his leather jerkin, nearly lifting him off the ground with just one hand as she did so.

With her soul having not been the only part of her that had been reincarnated into this world, as apparently her body had too, minus the immortality. After all she may no longer have her Lady Artemis's Blessing, but she was still a former Hesperide, and the Child of Atlas the Titan of Strength and Endurance. Which in itself came with perks, such as her having strength and durability that would match even Hercules's, which when combing with her thousands of year of experience and muscle memory, made her a force to be reckoned with, especially in a world where the gods were very much hands off, and there weren't any monsters or Demigods roaming about.

Again, she wasn't entirely sure why she had been reincarnated into a new world, nor why she had been allowed to keep both her memories and her old abilities, but she was not going to complain about it either. After all she was once again alive, and would therefore make the best of her situation, even if that meant beating some sense into her younger cousin.

"The Lannisters, they killed my father, they tried to kill my brother…" Robb gasped out, as he met his cousin's dark gaze, his former bravado and confidence wilting in the face of her fierce eyes, and the sheer depth and ferocity they held. "We can't let that stand, the honour of the North…"

"Yes I've heard that much." Zoe replied sharply, before she released him, her eyes flickering over to the other Lords, some of whom met her gaze stoically, whilst others flinched slightly, or shifted uncomfortably. "But there a ways of doing these things."

Robb frowned in confusion at that.

"For one preparing your forces and food supply in advance of declaring war. That and forming alliances beyond the North, as the Lannisters have a lot of enemies. Stannis and Renly being just two examples, after all if news of Joffrey's… legitimacy reached me in the far North I presume it will of reached them too." Zoe retorted, before she breezed past Robb, her gaze flicking over a cluster of maps on the great hall before it then shifted over to the truculent Lords, recognising Lord Karstark, Lord Umber, Lord Bolton and a half dozen lesser Lords in their number.

These were obviously the first ones to answer the call, and she was sure many more would follow.

"Now see here you, we've already taken…" Roose Bolton began, his tone cold and stiff as he glared at Zoe hatefully.

"No you listen Bolton." Zoe snapped as she turned on the pale skinned, dead eyed Lord, "I've already killed your Bastard son, Ramsey, for rape and murder, don't force me to smash your teeth in too!"

It was a harsh response, far harsher than the unpleasant man probably deserved, but Zoe was still angry at him, after all she suspected he knew far more about his Bastard son's crimes than he let on. He was just lucky that she had let her fury get the best of her, and had killed Ramsey, before he was interrogated. That and she didn't like his attitude, or any of the rumours that surrounded him and his foul Household.

Still she had said what she had, and by the look of hate the man sent her, he didn't appreciate it. Though thankfully some of the other Lords looked somewhat amused by her outburst, with Lord Bolton's general unpopularity playing into her hands this time.

"Zoe! Show some respect." Robb called out from behind her, trying to rein his head strong cousin in before she caused trouble as he did so.

Zoe stiffened at that, before she shot the mentally much younger Robb a look that, making him flinch. "I believe Robb, that it is time I took up my father's seat. Now that Uncle Eddard has passed, and I am of age, I no longer believe I need a Regent."

Robb flinched at that, knowing as he did what those words meant, after all Zoe was the eldest child of former Lord of House Stark, and the daughter of Eddard's older brother, Brandon, and so had the right to rule. With Eddard having only become Regent due to Zoe's age, and partially due to her gender.

Now she was of age though, and a recognised warrior, and leader, well there was no longer any justification for their needing to be a Regent, especially with Eddard having passed, and the next option being the younger, untested Robb.

"Now you two, I don't think now is the time for this!" Lord Karstark spoke up uncomfortably, looking between the two family members as he did so.

"You're right, so I will now be taking up the full duties of Lady Stark, and will be taking control of the North." Zoe retorted sharply, daring Robb to challenge her, not that she thought he would. Robb was a decent fighter, and a mostly decent man, but he knew his limitations, and knew Zoe was both smarter and more skilled than him.

"But my sisters?" Robb muttered.

"Yes I heard about my cousins, Sansa and Arya too, and I will see to it that we get them back." Zoe replied, her tone softening slightly as she did so.

Robb nodded at that.

"Now send another missive out, gather the rest of the Lords I want them here as soon they can." Zoe spoke up again, looking to one of the servants in the room as she did so. "Now that the banners have been called, the King's Spymaster will know what we plan, and will have told that brat Joffrey and his adviser. We have no option now, but to make the best of the situation."

The servant nodded as he heard that, before he turned and ran out of the room, looking to send another missive out to the Lord's hurry them.

"Now as for the rest of you, I believe we have extensive plans to make for the future." Zoe continued as she turned to the rest of the Lord's, her confidence unwavering, which cowed some of those present. Whilst others looked to Robb before nodding in acknowledge, the line of succession was clear, Zoe had the strongest claim to the Lordship of House Stark, especially now she was of age.

In fact only Lord Bolton look particularly unhappy, though it was hard to tell as that arsehole constantly looked miserable.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what do you all think? I hope you enjoyed it, and the lovely little cliffhanger I added in before the New Year!**

 **But yeah so I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and leave a review. I've not really got much to say about what's happening so much as I have big plans in place, and there is going to be a lot of stuff happening, both canon events initially, and my own events, which will obviously for the most part involve the characters I have added into the story, and the characters from the GoT universe that I have edited to my liking.**

 **So yeah, I hope you all leave a review and have a good Christmas and New Year.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Greed720.**


	5. Notice of Hiatus

**AN: This is a notice of Hiatus for this story going forward, and this is for a number of reasons. Firstly I am not entirely happy with the story, despite still very much liking the premise. Secondly this story has not received much support. Then thirdly a combination of the two points before have made it so I have lost any passion or inclination to continue for the moment. That being said I am not abandoning this story as I feel it is likely that I will return eventually.**

 **This note is just to inform you of my decision and explain that although it will be on long term Hiatus I have no plans to abandon it anytime soon.**

 **That being said I love the premise and some of the plot points and ideas I already have noted down. This is why I've decided to write another story, a Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones crossover, only this one will have an AU version of Nico Di Angelo as the main character. Though I warn now I have made changes/ adjustments to aspects to his sexuality and personality so he will not be canon.**

 **Also to note is that I am still continuing all my other stories and am actually in the midst of updating several at the moment. But still it is my choice as an author and my desire to start another story, after all I don't get paid for this I just do it for fun.**

 **Thanks for reading and I'll catch you later.**

 **When this story resumes I will delete this chapter.**

 **Greed720.**


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